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Yuuji stares at his reflection in the mirror and doesn’t recognize the face looking back at him.
There’s gold, two shiny hoops dangling from each of his ears, and a crown – the same one his father wore when he mated Yuuji’s Alpha mom– it sits low on his brow, the encrusted ruby in the centre sitting on his forehead. The same red of the jewel adorns his waterline, Choso had drawn the eyeliner he often wore himself but instead of black it’s gold and red to bring out the warm chocolate of Yuuji’s eyes.
He feels almost pretty. An incongruity with the scars that adorn his face, or the way his chapped lips cling to the hints of oil Choso had spread over them.
Still... underneath the sleeves of his kimono are the hands of a warrior, calloused by nagaina and sword. They aren’t soft like a proper Omega of his station should have. Sukuna trained Yuuji to be a warrior since they were very small, taught him the only way to get through times of war was by fighting alongside his people, which is exactly what Yuuji had done. Two long years as Captain of his brother’s army, ten years spent sleeping in barracks with people he considered as much his brothers as Sukuna and Choso.
What if Gojo Satoru doesn’t like him like that? What if he thinks Yuuji isn’t Omega enough? Or pretty enough. No, he shakes his head at his reflection in the mirror. No use thinking like that, today he is to be mated and nothing will change his fate.
He steps back from the mirror just as the door swings open a little too violently. The smell of firewood and smoke hits his nose, his brother’s figure nearly the size of the doorway hovering by the bathroom door.
They stare at each other, and for a moment there is nothing short of longing in their gazes. Sukuna’s red eyes flickering with emotions Yuuji never gets to see–emotions that he reserves only for Megumi. A reminder that they are brothers, that their bond is inseparable even if Yuuji is leaving his brother’s house and joining another.
Sukuna holds the last piece of his outfit, a beautifully crafted veil, the red silk is sheer around the edges and embroidered with stars and flowers. The fabric darkens into a deeper red the closer it gets to the centre, it stops being light and see through and transforms into an opaque crimson that complements the colors of his kimono.
The fabric is so beautiful and delicate that Yuuji almost doesn’t want to wear it. It isn’t like him. He’s made for practical gear, for armour, for the sturdy uniforms of the barracks. But the elders of the Gojo clan insisted that no Omega bride can marry into the Clan without a ceremonial veil.
Sukuna isn’t gentle when he grabs Yuuji by the neck. His sharp nails dig into the meat of Yuuji’s nape leaving painful indents that just barely not break skin. The tip of his brother’s fingers are stained a blackish red from his cursed energy; they feel warm, probably from his fire techniques. The same techniques that allowed him enough power to secure their small kingdom.
Sukuna settles the veil over Yuuji’s head, the darkest portion of it goes right over his eyes obscuring the previously well illuminated bathroom. He can still see forms and movement, and the faint glow of light above their heads but any detail is completely lost and all shapes blurry.
“You are hurting me,” Yuuji says petulantly, swats at the hands when he’s had enough of his brother’s claws on him.
Sukuna laughs, digs a little deeper, and he pins the veil in place using Choso’s hairpins.
“Why do I even have to wear this thing?” It’s an argument he’s made before, but none of his complains have worked to deter his brother or his fiance from producing such a garment specifically for him.
Megumi had told him about it from a book on the Gojo clan he’d found in the library. Since all of the Gojo clan’s eyes were special, they believed they were something sacred and beautiful. Only your mate could gaze into your eyes for the first time after the mating ceremony, so they kept them covered for the duration of it.
“Oi already so protective of your Alpha brat,” Sukuna laughs behind him, the smell of his mirth burns Yuuji’s nose, smoky and deep; and not for the first time he wonders what it would have been like if his brother had been born an Alpha instead of an Omega. “So ready to go be his little bitch.”
Yuuji rolls his eyes even if he knows Sukuna can’t see him. Gojo and him have mostly communicated through letters and messages, only meeting twice in person and Yuuji always had to cover his eyes like he is now, so he isn’t actually sure what Satoru even looks like. All he knows is that he’s strong, he fights well, and he’s the most powerful dragon on Earth, or so the legends say.
A slap to his forehead brings him out of his thoughts, he looks up at the darkened shape that is his brother. Sukuna’s features aren’t clear, Yuuji can’t see the slope of his nose that is the same as his own, or the shape of his lips that Sukuna uses to scowl in the same way Yuuji uses to smile. And for a moment, he wants to throw it all away, to rip the veil off his head and say fuck it to the Gojo clan so he doesn’t have to leave his brother behind.
You are doing this for him, he reminds himself.
“We should go,” he says instead, searching blindly for what he thinks is his brother’s shoulder and giving a single squeeze.
Sukuna is silent, the mocking has died down to nothing. And that’s how Yuuji knows his brother is having second thoughts about this too, that he doesn’t want Yuuji to leave either, even if he’ll never say it out loud.
“Grab my cloak,” Sukuna offers the end of his silk cloak and Yuuji clutches it tightly in his fist to act as a guide as they move through the shrine.
They walk a few steps in silence, the only sound comes from their socked feet on the wooden floor. Then Sukuna looks back at him briefly but doesn’t stop.
“Choso will go with you.” Yuuji freezes, his steps stagger. He’d asked Choso a while ago if he’d come with him to the Gojo Clan, as his personal guard and aide, but he’d heard nothing of it since Choso said he would ask Sukuna himself.
“He told me he wanted to, but I wasn’t sure you would allow it.”
Sukuna laughs bitterly, “Or what? Have to hear him moping for the next twenty years that his precious little brother isn’t here? No thanks, good luck dealing with him and Gojo together.”
Silence.
“It won’t be twenty years till we see each other again... right?” Fear curdles in his belly like spoiled milk, making the back of his throat feel like a chalky lump is stuck there.
Sukuna shrugs, if he sees any of Yuuji’s fear he doesn’t show it in his scent like other Omegas might have, it smells smoky as always and there’s a bitter undertone to it, the only way Yuuji knows the question affected him.
“Dragons are possessive of their hoards, mates included. If it were me, no one would be looking at you again little brother,”
Yuuji swallows around the lump and his grip tightens on his brother’s cloak. In another lifetime maybe, he could be part of his brother’s hoard. He and Megumi parading around the King as his right and left hand, as his mates. But not in this life, instead he’s destined for the claws of a dragon to claim; he’s mostly made peace with it, if only leaving everything he’s ever known behind was easier, then he wouldn’t have a complain.
At the end of the long hallway stands Choso. Yuuji can’t really see him through the veil, but he smells him as they approach, a hint of sweet grape and the tangy iron of blood from the techniques he’s spent years studying. That he now has sworn to use for Yuuji’s protection.
“Everything’s ready Ototo,” Choso murmurs close to his ear, his grip tightening as he pulls Yuuji to himself for an embrace.
“Thank you Ni-san,” Yuuji murmurs, though he makes an effort to brighten his scent for his oldest brother, orange blossoms blooming a little sweeter around them.
They walk a few more paces, Choso never letting go of Yuuji’s waist, and in turn Yuuji never lets go of Sukuna’s cloak. The three siblings: a bastard, a King, and a warrior –or a prize– stop just outside the ceremonial shrine, the two guards posted at each side of the door salute them and bow at the waist.
Choso clears his throat and places a gentle hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly to get his attention, but his words are low only for their ears. “Satoru Gojo has requested a private audience with you before the ceremony.”
Yuuji blinks, “Now?!”
The sun is rising through the window in the East, even through the veil Yuuji can see the faint pink of it. The ceremony is supposed to start right after dawn. What could Satoru Gojo want with him now? Did he get cold feet? Did he decide that Yuuji wasn’t good enough? Maybe he didn’t like the scent of the last heat blanket Yuuji sent him as part of their brief courtship. Maybe...
No.
He stomps the thoughts before they can grow even more thorns. He won’t know what Gojo wants until he talks to him, no point on speculating.
“Alone?” Sukuna drawls, “That bastard, how dare he think he can get you alone in a room right before your mating ceremony. I’ll kill him.”
The sound of his brother’s sword unsheathing is like a bucket of cold water dumped on his head. It makes him grab on to Sukuna’s chin by pure reflex, pulling it back towards him; until his brother’s face is right next to his and Yuuji can snarl angrily at him.
“I’m doing this for us, don’t fucking ruin it,” His scent spikes, orange blossom turning sour with his anger, “I can take care of myself for five minutes Sukuna.”
Sukuna’s body sags in his hold, but Yuuji doesn’t let him go until the sword is on his back again within its sheath.
“Take your place in the shrine my King,” Yuuji says dryly and motions towards the banquet hall doors. And he turns to Choso who’s scent has grown a little bloodier with his own anxiety.
“Where is Gojo Satoru?”
Six Months Ago
The tent smells like Wagashi. Like red bean and molten sugar and freshly brewed green tea. Yuuji’s mouth waters as he parts the curtain that leads inside.
Below the smell of sweets is the scent of mint, the scent of a powerful Alpha.
Satoru Gojo is there, sitting seiza style in a powdery white kimono and white bandages wrapped around his eyes. Fluffy white hair peeks from the top and Yuuji has the urge to touch it to test how bouncy it would be under his fingertips.
The Alpha would look imposing with his perfect form and his immaculate clothing, and the sharp Alpha scent to top it all off. If only he wasn’t stuffing his face on a plate of dango and monaka with a grin that Yuuji has only seen on the faces of children before.
Behind him, a man in a navy and green kimono sits back against a pile of cushions. He smells like Omega and the scar on his neck tells Yuuji he’s mated already.
“How sweet,” the Omega says. Unlike Satoru his deep purple eyes are not covered which surprises Yuuji. He thought all dragons covered their eyes in front of others. Otherwise why is Yuuji here with a tiger mask that covers half his face. “Wait until you see him Satoru, he’s plum enough to eat.”
“Suguru, leave him alone,” Gojo stands up from the pile of pillows, his hands are covered in powdered sugar. “Go wait outside, I’m sure Yuuji chan brought a chaperon you can entertain.”
The Omega –Suguru– rolls his eyes with a smile and walks out of tent with a sway to his hips that Yuuji would find attractive if it weren’t for the butterflies in his belly.
“Megumi is outside,” Yuuji says to Suguru as the Omega exits the tent. Of course he brought a chaperon, it wouldn’t be appropriate to come meet an Alpha of a rival clan alone.
“Suguru will keep him company,” Gojo smiles and not for the first time during the encounter Yuuji will wonder how much he means it, or if it’s just the default response he has to everything. A mask to complement the blindfold he wears.
A small beat of silence stretches between them. Gojo still smiles, and his fingers still clutch the red bean dango he’d been eating as Yuuji entered the tent. But there is something between them now, a sort of tension, like electricity in the air.
“Uh…“ He clears his throat, where should he even start? Gojo surely knows why he’s here, why else would he know be waiting. “M–my brother Sukuna sent me, to discuss the terms of a mating alliance.”
Gojo’s smile seems to get bigger and the spell that keeps him in quiet stillness dissipates, he pops the rest of the dango into his mouth and talks while he chews.
“Awww you wanna mate with my Yuuji chan? I’ve heard about you from your older bro. Cute face he said,.” A finger pokes his mask and Yuuji jerks back startled which only makes Gojo laugh harder. “Let’s get mated then!”
If the intent is to make Yuuji immediately suspicious, it’s working. He narrows his eyes a little even if the Alpha cannot see it. But it must show on the rest of his face because Gojo laughs again even harder.
“No? Isn’t that why we are here Yuuji chan? Did I scare you off already?”
Grinding his teeth together, Yuuji kneels next to Gojo by the table. The plate of sweets smells amazing and his mouth waters a little as he thinks of the red bean paste on his tongue.
As if reading his mind Gojo takes one of the sweets, whether he knows which one it is or he can actually see through that blindfold of his, Yuuji cannot guess. But he picks up a simple white monaka and lifts it up to Yuuji’s lips like an offering.
A primal part of Yuuji –the same that drives him to nest and rearrange his belongings with the seasons– feels fuzzy inside at the mere idea of an Alpha feeding him. Especially one with such a powerful scent as Gojo Satoru. And yet part of him wants to refuse, wants to say this is inappropriate since they’ve barely started courting each other. But a bigger part of him is hungry and chirpy and wants to take the sweet so bad. So he opens his mouth, his tongue sticking out. The Alpha pops the sweet into his mouth without missing a beat. It tastes sweet, the mochi skin has a jasmine flavour but the inside is a delicious red bean paste that fills his mouth with sweetness and his belly with warmth.
They chew in silence for a minute, savoring the sweets. But Yuuji needs to talk, he needs to fill the silence, his palms are itchy with it.
“They say you never answer any courtship requests.”
“I don’t.”
“That you won’t even sniff their scent samples.”
“Not worth my time.”
“That you haven’t shown any interest in any Omegas.”
“Too annoying.”
Yuuji sighs, “Then... why me?”
Gojo stills halfway to delivering another sweet to his mouth. He hums as if contemplating his answer and Yuuji just stares down at the table, at the swirls of old polished wood. He doesn’t want to read the minutiae of Gojo’s expression and jump to conclusions. This deal is too important for that.
“Do you know what I am Yuuji?”
Yuuji frowns. “An Alpha?”
“Well that too I suppose,” Gojo laughs and finally pops the next sweet into his mouth. “I’m a dragon. Do you know what dragons are like Yuuji?”
Right. He knew this, of course he knew this. It was one of the selling points for Sukuna to agree to a potential mating. An alliance with dragons. There hasn’t been one like that in hundreds of years. Usually dragons and humans are content just killing each other, or stealing each other’s relics. Sometimes a human would go study under a dragon and bring back new knowledge of jujutsu or the natural world, but that was a rare occurrence nowadays. In even rarer occurrences a dragon will come train to the human world, in medicine or art or crafting, disciplines dragons lag on.
Powerful? Imposing? Big? He thinks all these things but says none.
“I don’t know, what are dragons like?”
“They like pretty things, nice smelling things, shiny things.”
Yuuji can’t help the blush on his cheeks at being called a pretty thing.
“You haven’t even seen my face,” he says weakly.
“Just because my eyes are covered doesn’t mean I don’t see you. I might not know what your face looks like exactly, but I know your scent, and I feel your power. Besides your brother is a very convincing person. That sample of your scent he sent me? I have it under my pillow Yuuji chan, you smell delicious.”
Yuuji swallows, while this arrangement has been orchestrated by Sukuna, Yuuji’s hand has moved the pieces for as long as the arrangement has been on the table.
“Actually, it was my idea. I convinced my brother to send that first letter.”
Gojo blinks, he seems genuinely taken aback. His scent shifts from the sweet if pungent mint to an icy peppermint that burns Yuuji’s nostrils and the back of his throat. He doesn’t quite know what it is. Anger? Disappointment? Confusion? Or simply awe at being caught of guard? It could be all of them at once.
But just as quick as it starts, the scent retreats all at once, replaced by minty sweetness again. Gojo cackles–not just a laugh but a full on maniacal sound that rings through Yuuji’s ears and makes his heart flutter in a way he doesn’t know how to interpret.
“You sent me your own scent,” Gojo says with fascination in his voice. “Your brother did say you are a brat, but he didn’t warn me you were a mastermind. Answer me your own question then, why me?”
Yuuji pretends to think about it. In reality he’s trying to figure out how much he can trust Gojo.
“Gojo san,” he says carefully. “There’s something you need to know about my brother.”
“Oh?” Gojo leans closer, conspiratorial. His breath tickles Yuuji’s ears. “Are you exposing Sukuna’s dirty little secrets?”
Yuuji grimaces, “In a way. Sukuna has a Kingdom, he has an army, yet if people discover he also has a mate, they won’t follow him. Some will turn against him.”
“I’m not very good at social rituals Yuuji, but isn’t a mate a good thing to have for a King.”
“Not if you are an Omega,” Yuuji looks at the ground, at the powdered sugar collected in little dots on the cushions beneath them. “And your mate is also an Omega.”
This is dangerous information to give. For all he knows Gojo could leave this room and tell everyone what he heard. He could use it to start a war against Sukuna and his army, calling his rule illegitimate. And perhaps Yuuji is banking on too little, on the stories he’s heard about dragons. Their age old nobility and honour. Perhaps, that won’t matter to Satoru at all.
“So you want an alliance with us in case your brother’s rule is ever questioned,” Gojo tilts his head and he grabs his chin as if he’s thinking about it. As if this is an angle he’d never thought of before. “And what do I get in return Yuuji chan?”
The tent goes still. Another beat of silence. What can Yuuji offer that isn't already on the table? Gold? His dowry is worth millions. Jujutsu? Yuuji’s a warrior, one of the strongest in a fight. Gojo can have his fists. His body? At this thought he blushes, but that’s what a mating is, isn’t it?
“Me,” he says simply. No preamble, no embellishment. Just the truth. “I’ll be your Omega.”
He expects Gojo to laugh, to point at him and mock him. Some human spilling his brother’s secrets, asking a powerful Alpha to mate him. And all he can offer in return is his sorry self? Yuuji would laugh too. No one is so kind, certainly no one with a reputation of Gojo Satoru’s caliber.
But Gojo surprises him, his following chuckle isn’t malicious, it is intrigued.
“You know Yuuji, I think we can work something out,” Gojo says with a smile. “You’ve got guts I’ll give you that, wouldn’t mind an Omega that can match me, I like a little rough and tumble.”
Gojo’s smile turns into a grin. And for the first time during the encounter Yuuji returns it. Yeah, they can work something out.
Much like the last time Yuuji saw Satoru Gojo in his human form, the man’s eyes are covered by his ceremonial blindfold, even through the veil it’s easy to see the shock of white hair on the Alpha’s head, and the glittering embroidery of his wedding kimono. But the face and his general shape remain a blur. A mystery for Yuuji to unwrap as a wedding gift.
“I’ll be right out here Ototo,” Choso says from the doorway, loud enough for Gojo to hear, he’s letting them have a few private minutes like Gojo requested but he isn’t going anywhere. The moment Yuuji says the word he’ll be there. It makes the sourness in his stomach recede a little.
“Satoru san,” Yuuji vows mid waist, a simple formal gesture. Gojo is sitting on the floor at the ceremonial table, his legs spread wide, unseemly as Sukuna would say. The only reason Yuuji can tell through the veil is that he hits Gojo’s foot at one side of the table as he walks. “You wanted to see me?”
“Ah Yuuji-chan, so long without seeing your beautiful face.” Gojo hands him a cup, it isn’t hot anymore just warm. How is he supposed to drink it with the veil he doesn’t know, but he holds it in his hand anyway. “Tea?”
Amusement shoots through Yuuji’s body in spite of his wariness, Gojo has never seen his face.
“It’s bad luck to see a bride before his mating ceremony Gojo-san,” Yuuji says with a matching quirk of his lips.
“Ha! Well, good thing we don’t have that problem then,” Gojo laughs back. His voice is so close now, Yuuji thinks he can almost feel it on his cheek. Sukuna’s warnings echo in his ears.
Yuuji is almost expecting a touch, or the ghost of a mouth on his cheek. Instead there’s that laugh again, the air from it tickling his neck.
“You smell good Yuuji. I see they have finally stopped hiding you from me.” Gojo inhales, as if he’d just walked by a deliciously smelling kitchen, like Yuuji is some sort of delicious fruit or sweet. He wonders what he smells like to him now, every previous time they had met Yuuji wore lotions and perfumes to hide his true scent, even if he’d shared samples throughout their courtship.
Yuuji shudders, the closeness affects him more than he wants to let on. They aren’t even mated and Gojo already has that effect on him.
A noise from the table distracts him from the proximity, the sound of wood clattering against wood. It’s melodic almost, like setting the pieces of a board game. Gojo takes one of Yuuji’s fingers between his, squeezing gently and guides it down towards the table, until Yuuji is touching a delicate piece of shogi.
“Do you know how to play?” Gojo asks.
“A little…” he lies though it’s not quite a lie. Megumi taught him how to play once, it’s just that most of the information went into one ear and escaped from the other. “Only if I can see though.” If he focuses enough he can see the blurry edge of the board through the fibers of his veil, but not really to discern what is happening.
“That’s alright.” Gojo says, and he’s guiding Yuuji’s hand again, towards one side of the board, using it to push one of the pieces forward.
“But I can’t…”
He feels warmth right behind him, a body, taller than his own, lanky but the hard planes of his muscles are firm and toned against Yuuji’s back. The ghost of a breath tickles his ear and his neck, right above his mating gland. Yuuji’s thankful for the veil covering him from any direct contact. He’s expecting forceful hands, or even just the Alpha’s cock against his back pressing and rutting against him. Fuck, Sukuna was right, he should have listened to him.
But nothing comes. All Gojo does is push a piece on the shogi board using Yuuji’s fingers.
“Good move.”
“I don’t–“
Another piece moves not by his hand. Then Gojo makes him move another across the board.
That’s when it dawns on him, Gojo’s playing shogi with himself.
The pieces glide from one side of the board to the other. It’s like a spell –or a ritual– being cast, the sounds and the movements of the hands remind Yuuji of the soothsayers of his and Sukuna’s family playing kokkuri to divine the fortunes of the year to come. He gets lost in the rhythm of the game, a piece discarded, a piece taken from the table and placed anew.
At first Yuuji counts the moves, tries to visualize them in his head the way they would look like on the board just like Megumi taught him. He tries to figure out what pieces have moved by the engraving on the top of each wooden block; but it soon becomes a blur of motion beneath the veil that he can’t decipher.
“Check,” Gojo’s voice comes, almost breathless against his neck. The tip of his nose is pressing right behind Yuuji’s ear through the veil. “Mate.”
“O-Okay...” he says carefully, afraid that any wrong move would make Gojo aware that he’s practically holding Yuuji on his lap.
“Do you see Yuuji?” Gojo presses the words into his neck, they are hot and wet and they make him squirm against the Alpha.
“No,” he says dryly. “I can’t see anything.”
Yuuji braces himself for a snide comment, or Gojo calling him stupid for not using jujutsu to see, which is something that hadn’t occurred to him until this very moment. But Gojo just chuckles, and he presses a kiss right to the jut of Yuuji’s collarbone, below his mating gland and just above his shoulder. Even through the veil the simple touch feels electric.
“Exactly,” Gojo says in a tone that makes Yuuji’s blood curdle in his veins. “You can’t see anything.”
“What?”
Yuuji struggles against the hold for the first time, pulling himself forward against the table to get away. Gojo doesn’t resist him, his hands drop from his hold on Yuuji’s hip and waist.
Yuuji scrambles to get up, like a cornered animal knocking the table down in the process. The shogi board clatters to the ground in a mess of wooden pieces and takes the set of delicate porcelain teacups with it. Gojo laughs, it sounds wrong for a human and more resembles thunder, or a very strong wind; the dragon shining through.
The sound of the wood and the porcelain breaking lingers impossibly long, but with the veil how can he know? He reaches blindly to the ground finds the board still intact and places it back on the table, then a couple of shogi pieces, until finally his fingers find the edge of a broken teacup. He recoils back as it slices down his thumb, the smell of his blood immediately blooming in the room.
“Tsk tsk,” Gojo’s laughter finally dies down. “Gotta be careful Yuuji-chan, don’t wanna disfigure my lovely bride to be.
“What the hell?” He asks, and it sounds entirely inappropriate for the setting right in front of his future mate. “What was that?!”
“Shogi,” Gojo shrugs, Yuuji can’t see it, but he can hear it in his voice. “Think of that board as our clans. Itadori and Gojo, humans and dragons, Yuuji and Satoru. But you can’t actually see the board, all players are unknown, you can move one way or the other but you won’t know who you’ll face next. That’s what going into this mating with me will feel like.”
Yuuji wipes the blood off his finger with his red cape, the tiny bead welling up again almost immediately. It’s a small cut but it’s deep so it’ll probably bleed for a while. He looks up and he can feel the moment his and Gojo’s eyes meet through layers of fabric because ice runs down his spine.
He doesn’t know what to say, his mouth feels dry even as he takes a sip of the unbroken teacup in his hand.
“My brother told me mating you would be like walking into a pit of snakes.”
Gojo chuckles darkly, “He’s right.”
A hand reaches for him, cups his cheek in an almost tender gesture, and even through the veil Yuuji can feel Gojo’s palms are smooth, devoid of the callouses and keloids of his own hands from years of learning the sword.
Instinctively Yuuji leans into the touch, Gojo touches his cheek as if it were something precious. And for a moment. Just a moment. This isn’t an arranged marriage to secure a future peace. For a moment they are just Satoru and Yuuji, and they met at a military market, eating sweets under a lavish tent. Yuuji freshly nineteen, Satoru a century older but still a kid at heart.
“This morning many things will happen that will make you think dragons are barbaric, and that I want to hurt you, or even kill you.”
Yuuji looks up, even though Gojo cannot see him through the veil and he thinks their eyes meet again.
“Do you?” He asks tentatively, “Want to hurt me?”
“Yes,” No pause or preambles, just the truth, “You smell good Yuuji, I want to bite that sweet ripe orange blossom out of you. But I don’t want to kill you, and you have to trust me on that.”
Yuuji frowns. Can he trust that? Just because Gojo agreed to an alliance through mating doesn’t mean the Gojo Clan won’t want to take over. Or to make an example out of the Itadori Clan for daring to rise up in a world that was once dominated by dragons, not humans.
And yet, there is something that stops Yuuji in his assessment, call it Omega's intuition, or a gut feeling –he's always been good at those– but something tells him Satoru Gojo isn't lying, that this meeting was orchestrated so he could warn Yuuji about what was to come, not ambush him. Since their first meeting, Gojo hasn’t said a word about what Yuuji confided in him. And that’s worth something.
Still, caution comes first, his brothers always taught him that.
"Why should I do that? My brother already thinks you are threading on thin ice by asking me to be alone with you," The tilt of Yuuji's head broadcasts that he's starting to think so too.
"Your brother is smart, but I couldn't risk anyone from my clan listening in. I'm sure you've noticed Yuuji chan but the Gojos like their traditions, they would be very upset to know their future leader is going around telling his human mate that dragons are stupid and archaic" he chuckles darkly, as if he hates that fact himself.
"I’ve noticed," Yuuji says back with a smile.
"It's all a big stupid performance, they think the bigger they show themselves, the more brutal and powerful, then everyone would fear them too much to ever move against them. They didn’t want me to mate with you, they still don’t want me to. They think that shows weakness."
"But why would you be different? Why are you telling me this?"
A small smile that Yuuji can barely see tugs at the corners of the Alpha's lips, it's different from the others, sad in a way that makes Yuuji's bones ache with a tiredness he cannot name, that he's never experienced as the second born son. Heavy is the crown.
"Do you want to know why I agreed to this mating Yuuji?" Gojo hums, "I want to help you and your brother. But that’s not the whole story. You see the dragons know I'm the most powerful of them. But without a mate, they only accept me like one accepts a storm. I’m a natural disaster,” He continues smiling sadly. “But then I had an idea in this wonderful brain of mine, what if I mate you. What if I form the alliance hundreds of my predecessors have failed to do. It would be good for the clans, and for your brother, and the human world. But you know what really motivated me to do it?"
"What?"
"That they would hate it. Most of the elders absolutely despise humanity, and they hate the strongest of them bringing one into the family like this. And I love that."
There’s a toothy quality to Gojo’s grin, something that makes him look almost like a monster or a feral beast, certainly every bit the dragon he’s supposed to be. He looks at Yuuji expectantly, as if he’s waiting for some reaction to his plan. Does he want Yuuji to approve? To celebrate the humiliation of becoming his mate for a childish family feud?
No.
Yuuji sees it, in the crease of Gojo’s eyes, the way he’s pushing his pout like a petulant child. A performance Gojo said, his entire family performs and the world is their stage. It was Yuuji’s mistake to think for a moment that Gojo was exempt from the act, instead of its (un)willing participant.
So Yuuji grins back, once again following the instincts so deeply rooted in his blood. It’s clear it isn’t the reaction Gojo is expecting when the toothy grin falters for a split of a second that Yuuji could have just imagined if he didn’t know better.
“Guess we both have our reasons Gojo San.”
The grin mellows into a smile. Devastatingly beautiful.
“It’s Satoru for you Yuuji chan.”
Yuuji walks alone down the shrine aisle, every step he takes is calculated and careful, one after the other, following a glowing orb of fire Sukuna created to guide him. The veil constricts his vision; but that just means his hearing becomes sharper. He hears the murmurs of the wedding guests, his family and their allies —the Zenin, the Kamo, the Kugisaki, and Sukuna's inner circle of army generals— on one side. And the quieter eerie whispers of the Gojo Clan dragons on the other.
I heard Gojo is gonna kill the prince by the end of the night. That's what dragons do, you know! Yeah he’s gonna drink his blood! Shut it you two, King Sukuna would never allow that.
That Itadori boy, no manners at all. He should have arrived after Gojo Sama. Show some respect boy!
Do you think his dick is big? A yelp, he's pretty sure Nobara said that, and Megumi probably hit her. The thought makes him smile under the veil.
A priestess awaits in the front of the room. Her form is blurry under the red gauze of the veil but Yuuji can see she's wearing white with blue thread and a wooden dragon mask over her face. Sukuna agreed Yuuji would marry in the tradition of Gojo's people, with priestesses of wind and water that honored the dragons’ legacy. She gives Yuuji a half bow of greeting and Yuuji returns it, and she points towards the centre of the altar, to a beautifully embroidered cushion embellished with gold thread and encrusted with blue jewels.
He kneels on the cushion at the priestess’ prompting and hears the sound of a golden gong at the end of the room.
The priestess lifts her hands in greeting to the room and the whispers and murmurs behind him quiet down.
“Itadori Yuuji,” the priestess says, voice booming. “You have come of your own free will to stand before us and offer yourself mind, body, and soul to the one we call Gojo Satoru.” It isn't really a question but a statement so Yuuji doesn't answer, he simply inclines his head. Yes, he is willing, yes he knows he is offering his entire being to the Dragons.
The priestess nods and she sets a heavy hand on Yuuji's shoulder pushing him down on the cushion. Yuuji follows the movement, lowering himself on the ground until his forehead touches the wooden floor. He hears Sukuna bristle at the back, he probably thinks Yuuji should bow to no one, not even a dragon; but Yuuji is here now at the priestess’ feet.
The doors at the back of the temple open with a creak. Yuuji can't see anything with his forehead pressed to the ground. But it doesn't matter. The scent of minty sweetness is overpowering, crawling up his mouth and throat, so powerful it threatens to choke him. Satoru never smelled this strongly before, not even just minutes ago during their meeting, he must be pushing his pheromones out, making himself seem much larger than he normally is. Is it for Yuuji’s benefit? So he doesn’t forget who he’s about to get mated to. Or is it everyone else who should remember who he is.
He inhales deeply, his lungs burning with it. But the Omega part of him likes it. Any Alpha worth their salt would turn heads with their scent, but Satoru doesn’t only turn them he makes them choke on the power of his pheromones.
"May the Gods bless your union!" The priestess says.
A hand settles gently on his shoulder and helps him come up from the deep bow. It’s Satoru standing in front of him. This close Yuuji can see the smile on his face –not quite gentle, not quite mischievous– and it brings him a small amount of comfort. The fear bubbling inside his belly fizzles and pops, this is his future mate, in just a few minutes Yuuji will be his.
There are worst fates out there, he thinks and realizes he means it, mating Satoru doesn’t sound so bad.
Two more Miko join them at the front of the shrine. One carries a ceremonial vessel, a ceramic piece Sukuna especially commissioned just for the wedding. Painted red like Yuuji's family crest with an icy blue dragon extending its long body up the side. The other holds a simple white bottle of sake and a flat dish that will serve as a cup.
The Miko hands Satoru the vessel, the Alpha uncaps it with no effort and a pungent sickly sweet smell wafts from inside. Yuuji’s cheeks heat up as he gets a full whiff; it smells like slick, like an Omega in the very peak of heat had collected it themselves and bottled it up. It’s shameful how it makes his belly hot, or his pupils dilate under his veil.
“First,” The priestess says with ceremony in her voice. “A poultice to induce a heat.” She points towards the vessel and Satoru nods, his fingers reach out and brush the edge of Yuuji’s veil, the silk slipping through them like water.
Satoru doesn’t remove the veil, he slips his hands under it, touching Yuuji’s kimono, up his neck. The first touch of skin against skin feels like a shock and Yuuji gasps, too loud in the relative stillness of the shrine.
The cold shape of the ceramic vessel follows the brush of warm skin. Satoru’s fingers trace up Yuuji’s chin, his cheeks, until they find his lips.
“Drink Yuuji chan.”
Yuuji opens his mouth just a fraction and Satoru tilts his head back by the hold on his chin. The vessel’s opening presses against his lips, Satoru tilts it back and warm syrupy liquid trickles down into Yuuji’s waiting lips. He drinks. It tastes awful. Like sugar left to burn in a pan, like fresh musky sweat, or a fruit that’s been left to rot under the sun and all that remains is its sickly sweetness.
As the liquid reaches his stomach, Yuuji feels warmth. Not unlike the glow that follows a bottle of sake on an empty stomach.
The bottle empties and some of the liquid spills down the side of Yuuji’s chin. He doesn’t even think about it as his tongue darts out to lick it clean.
Satoru smiles, “Good boy.”
The Alpha pulls back, Yuuji misses his closeness immediately. His hands and the vessel retreats and Yuuji is left licking the insides of his mouth.
“Second,” The priestess says again. “An exchange of sake to signify the entwining of your lives.”
The second Miko hands Satoru the bottle of sake and the flat cup. The room holds its breath as the liquid is poured. This at least is similar to the wedding traditions Yuuji grew up with, so he takes comfort in it.
Satoru drinks a sip from it first, then he brings the cup to Yuuji’s lips, not under the veil like he did with the heat inducer, but through it. The alcohol damps the silky fabric but it’s sheer enough that Yuuji can taste sake in his mouth anyway.
They drink again, each taking a turn. And then again. Until the cup is empty and Yuuji’s throat burns with the alcohol.
There’s a grimace on Satoru’s face, like he finds the sake disgusting and is glad when Yuuji finishes the last sip.
They exchange a glance through their respective face coverings. It feels real now, Yuuji’s heart can feel them entwining.
“Third...”
The tension mounts around the room. Yuuji isn’t quite sure why. The rustling of fabric and murmurs rise from the side of the hall where the members of the Gojo Clan stand. They seem agitated, and Yuuji looks over to them briefly only to be met with Satoru’s fingers grabbing his chin and bringing his gaze back.
“Look at me.”
Yuuji does.
“Itadori Yuuji shall gaze upon his mate’s face for the first time. Gojo Satoru shall offer up the knowledge of his eyes.” The priestess voice rises above the commotion among the Gojo clan, and their backs suddenly straighten, their voices quiet, they look at the ground, though Yuuji’s sees one or two of them from the corner of his eyes and their bodies shake and tremble.
“So it shall be,” the Gojo clan says in unison.
Instead of removing the blindfold like he expects, Satoru grabs the ends of Yuuji’s veil again. He understands now, why the veil had to be so long, Satoru lifts it and slides right under it, so it covers both him and Yuuji in a small pocket of privacy.
“Hi Yuuji,” Satoru says. This is the first time Yuuji’s face is entirely bare in front of him, and his cheeks immediately colour with that knowledge. “You are as pretty as I imagined.”
A hand cups his cheek, warmth spreads through him. In such proximity the Alpha scent is unmistakable, and the heat inducer sloshing in his belly makes him notice–makes him inhale deep.
“Hi Satoru san.”
“Ready to see this ugly mug?” Satoru laughs, as if he knows that what he’s saying is pure lies.
“Please.”
Satoru reaches behind his head to where the bandage around his eyes ends. Tugs at one end and it begins to unravel, like an unruly snake, around around. Yuuji holds his breath until his chest hurts. Anticipation making sweat bead on his forehead.
A flash of blue.
At first Yuuji thinks it’s some sort of spell, or another fireball made by Sukuna but blue this time. But no. He blinks to focus his vision on what’s in front of him. Those are Satoru Gojo’s eyes.
They are blue. Except that feels like an understatement. Like describing the most beautiful woman in the world as just nice looking, or the sharpest blade in the same way one would a dull knife, or unearth a shining ruby and call it a red rock. They are blue because that’s the colour Yuuji recognizes, the only one that his human mind can wrap his head around.
The reality is this: Satoru’s eyes glow, Yuuji feels like the first time he gazed upon the night sky with his grandfather. Stars and constellations illuminated their way, and he sees them here too, reflected back at him from Satoru’s eyes. The blue feels like a void from where every colour comes from –purples and reds– swirling in shapes akin to a rainbow under sunny rain.
The room around them melts away, it’s only the two of them in this tiny pocket dimension. Yuuji and Satoru, laid bare for the first time since they met. He feels like he could get lost in Satoru’s gaze, like his mind could melt away if only he lets it. Forever wreathed in blue.
Yuuji’s only vaguely aware that he reaches out, traces the edges of Gojo’s eyes. They feel just like his own. Eyelashes curled up, a soft eyelid painted gently with the barest hint of black coal. Satoru has never looked so inhuman, or so beautiful.
“I’m getting kinda self-conscious here Yuuji.”
Yuuji snaps out of it, face burning at being called out like that.
“Sorry! Sorry, I– Satoru San, you are so... Your eyes are...”
“Gorgeous? Stunning? Dazzling?” Satoru laughs. He looks a little sad, like he’s expecting Yuuji to want to recoil from his gaze. He wonders how many people have before.
“Yes,” he says simply. Raw and honest. “I’ve never seen something more beautiful.”
Satoru blinks in surprise, Yuuji hasn’t let go of his face. They stare at each other for a long moment, drinking in the sight of each other’s faces. Yuuji memorizes the curve of the Alpha’s nose, the permanent pout etched to his upper lip. His heart quickens, scent blooming like sweet oranges; whether is a product of the heat poultice or the sight of Satoru’s face, well who is to say?
“Should we finish the ceremony?” Satoru asks after a bit of silence. He looks almost nervous, though he’s trying to hide it under a smile that’s too big for his face.
Yuuji nods and he traces Satoru’s lips with his hands, that part of him was never hidden by the blindfold and yet Yuuji feels like he’s truly seeing him for the first time.
In a moment of bravery he stands leans up and kisses him. A soft fleeting thing, like butterfly wings. But it’s his now, his first kiss, his and Satoru’s only, without gawking eyes around.
“Yeah let’s do it.”
He helps wrap the blindfold around Satoru’s eyes again, the blue glow disappearing under the inky fabric of the bandages. But as he moves to adjust the veil over his own face, Satoru shakes his head,
“You don’t have to wear it anymore Yuuji chan.”
“Oh okay,” He lets the fabric of the veil fall around him, red silk pooling at his feet.
The crowd erupts in cheers and shouts from his side of the shrine. Yuuji looks at them and even Sukuna is grinning at him. Choso is crying looking relieved. Yuuji doesn’t understand, do they think that he would reject Satoru for his eyes? But the Gojo’s side of the hall is also full of whispers and deep sighs, their mouths are pinched into tight lines.
“Itadori Yuuji,” Yuuji turns, the priestess and the Miko surround him on both sides. “Have you gazed into Gojo Satoru’s eyes?”
Is this some kind of trick question? Are they supposed to make sure Yuuji isn’t having second thoughts?
“Yes,” he says. “And they are beautiful.”
More shouts, the Gojos erupt into a full fledged argument calling Yuuji a liar and Satoru a traitor. He doesn’t understand.
“Give it up old geezers, Yuuji’s fine!” Satoru mocks them, his tongue sticks out of his mouth rudely towards the members of his clan.
The priestess clears her throat, once, twice, but the voices are too loud.
And suddenly a growl. Deep and ferocious, coming straight from the maw of a beast. Yuuji looks back, a white and black dragon stands in front of the Gojo Clan, it brandishes its claws like a weapon in front of the elder’s faces. In the few seconds that would take them to transform into their dragon forms, this one could rip out their throats.
“Ha, thanks Yuuta kun!” Gojo shouts. “Isn’t this what you wanted old farts? You wanted Yuuji to mate me under our traditions. Didn’t you say ‘If he doesn’t go crazy when he looks at your eyes we won’t object to your mating anymore’.” Satoru makes air quotes for emphasis, his voice mocking and whiny as he imitates how he thinks the Gojo elders sound. “Now look at him, as sane as can be.” He points at Yuuji, and Yuuji gives a small wave for lack of anything better to do.
The noise from the Gojo clan finally dies down, though the grumbles continue even as the elders go back to their seats. The dragon –Satoru called him Yuuta– remains there, his mouth open to show his fangs as he looks over all the elder’s for any further signs of dissent.
The priestess clears her throat once more and slowly the room comes back to relative stillness.
Yuuji leans into Satoru’s personal space a little.
“Could I have really gone mad looking at you Satoru San.”
Satoru shrugs, a smile with too many teeth instead of a mouth, like the disagreements from the clan have made him a little feral and dangerous.
“It happens sometimes with humans,” He shrugs again, “But I believed in you Yuuji chan!”
Any protest dies down in his throat as the Miko and the priestess surround him once more. Nothing stops them this time, they tug at the fabric of Yuuji’s kimono, undoing the knots and ties that tie it together and pushing the outer robe off his shoulder. Yuuji yelps as they disrobe him, trying to cover himself but to little avail.
Shame curdles in his belly. He could fight back, he’s strong enough to take on three Miko with just a punch. But what would that mean for his mating? Could Satoru call it off? He doesn’t think he could after letting Yuuji see his face. But still he can’t take any chances.
The Miko reach the inner robes and they are pulling those too, leaving Yuuji in just the white juban and his fundoshi underneath.
“The bite will seal the union,” The priestess announces.
The Miko force Yuuji down to his knees on the cushion again, one of them pulls on the Juban, just enough to bare Yuuji’s mating gland. It’s red and swollen from the heat inducer and just the bare breeze on it makes Yuuji shiver.
Satoru approaches from the side. Is it Yuuji’s imagination or are his fangs a little sharper than they were before? He frowns at the way the Miko are holding him down but he doesn’t tell them to stop and doesn’t move away either.
He squats in front of Yuuji and cups his face with his hands, giving him a smile he can’t quite qualify as gentle.
“It’ll hurt.”
Yuuji can’t nod, he tries but the way Satoru holds him doesn’t let him move much. It’ll hurt, he knows, he can bear it. Every Omega before him has done it before.
And yet, it’s the brush of Satoru’s nose against the nape of his neck what makes his whimper. The ghost of his breath against his back what makes him shiver. His tongue licks up the side of his collarbone, where neck and shoulder meet, where his gland is red and swollen and oh so sensitive.
And then there’s pain.
Satoru bites right in the middle of the gland. The skin gives away easy, blood pooling in Satoru’s mouth, tinting the air with cooper that mixes with the sweet orange blossom of Yuuji’s arousal. It should be shameful how the pain of the bite makes him slick up between the legs, how his mouth opens in a silent moan, and his eyes roll back into his head.
“Fuck,” he doesn’t know when his hands gripped Satoru’s hair to keep him in place, but he tugs painfully, deepening the bite, forcing the Alpha’s fangs as deep as they can without touching bone.
Yuuji knows the moment the bond snaps into place. His thoughts go from swirls of emotion to a complete stillness. He becomes aware of Satoru’s beating heart, of his every breath, the texture of his skin where the Alpha holds him still, and the sharpness of his fangs penetrating his skin.
“Yeah, just like that,” Satoru pulls back, teeth and chin red with Yuuji’s blood.
A whimper escapes Yuuji’s mouth. Belatedly he realizes the Miko aren’t holding him up anymore, it’s all Satoru bearing his weight. The ritual has been completed.
The altar stands tall in the middle of the courtyard, made of limestone and shaped like the open claw of a dragon. Yuuji is supposed to lay there. In theory Satoru will come claim him as the sun goes up in the horizon.
He’s starting to feel feverish, the effects of the potion he was given coursing through his body like liquid fire. Slick collects between his legs uncomfortably and he fidgets in place as the masked Miko push him to kneel on the flattest part of the claw.
It’s all pomp and spectacle, just like Satoru said. A performance not for Yuuji’s or Satoru’s benefit, but rather to show that the Gojos still have all the power, that they hold on to these ancient traditions in the face of a new world ruled by humans instead of dragons.
Once upon a time, Yuuji hears himself think, dragons received human sacrifices from people as tributes. Beautiful Omegas, powerful Alphas, pups with bright unknown futures nestled in cradles of gold. That’s how the world ought to be still, according to the Gojos.
One of the attendants produces a golden rope from somewhere in her kimono while the other one forces Yuuji to his knees on the altar. They loop the rope around his wrists three times before tying a knot with cursed energy, binding his hands behind him like the sacrifice he is, ripe for the taking.
The bite on his neck throbs, even cleaned and disinfected by Choso, it’s too new and raw to be anything but hot painful fire on his skin. Right now it’s a blessing, focusing on the pain helps him to not focus on the other molten fire of his approaching heat. He hasn’t started to hump the altar at least, and he hopes Satoru will come before he does.
The newly formed bond between them feels like a gnawing hunger inside him; an immature feral thing. Yuuji thinks it could grow teeth if he lets it, become a monstrous thing he can’t quiet control. It’s more than a yearning, it’s an appetite, like Yuuji would hunt Satoru down to the ends of the Earth for a morsel of the Alpha’s scent and his touch. He hasn’t had time to sit with the feeling, everything is happening so fast, but it scares him how intense it is.
The Miko fasten the gold cord tying his hands together to the altar. Yuuji tests the strength of the cord, since it’s infused with cursed energy it’ll probably be a bit tough to break, but he thinks he could do it regardless if he absolutely has to.
They leave him like that, alone, the wind blowing his hair in every direction.
The sun is rising in the East, a perfectly clear blue sky. All Yuuji can see from up here are mountains and woods. And if he looks behind him, he can see Sukuna and Choso standing side by side watching him. But most of the eyes on his back are dressed in white, elders from the Gojo Clan, their eyes are covered, but their mouths wear the same sneers of mild disgust they had during the wedding ceremony. Most of them don't like him, he knows that much. But after the bite, there's nothing they can do anymore, short of killing Yuuji and risk enraging Satoru.
The Miko walk forward into the courtyard with a golden gong in her hand. The sound it makes when she hits it seems to vibrate all through Yuuji's skin and bones.
All the members of the Gojo Clan tilt their heads up to the skies, so Yuuji follows their gazes up as well. And that's when he sees it –sees him– a long snake-like creature gliding through the skies. He moves like the wind, a long blue mane swaying with him. His talons are sharp and there's four of them, glinting in the first rays of the sun like small knives. A long tail that extends the length of his body even more, and a long mouth with rows of pearly white fangs, almost as sharp as his claws.
He's beautiful, like an ancient manuscript come alive. White ink made iridescent flesh.
The dragon lands with an elegant flourish, the wind and the floor barely disturbed by his arrival. He stands before Yuuji, facing the group of people in front of them, his face a stony mask of barely concealed displeasure.
A small child walks forward, her face uncovered unlike the rest of the Gojos. Too young to cover her eyes probably. She stands before the dragon and a beat of silence passes between them. The air stills, Yuuji doesn't even feel the wind on his face while it lasts.
"Satoru San says he will claim his mate," the small child says. "In the way of the ancestors before him."
A loud rumble resounds among the Gojos, Yuuji can't quite hear what they are saying. But the voices sound angry and confused, he thinks he catches a swear word or two.
"Your mate is no dragon, Satoru," An older man with long white hair raises his voice above everyone else. "Do you intent to kill him already? Before we even leave his family's territory? Is this the alliance you have forced us to endure?"
The child and Gojo look at each other once more, and another beat of silence passes between them. Yuuji realizes they must be communicating in a way he cannot hear or understand. The child raises his hand again and the murmurs behind her quiet down.
"Satoru san says his mate was made for him, that he will withstand this mating. And when he does, no one will dare question their union again." The child pauses for a moment, looking behind her and then at the dragon again, her tiny lip trembles with unshed tears. But eventually she speaks again. "And that you should mind your own business old farts."
Commotion again, the old men and women shout, they hound around the girl like a pack of angry vultures ready to eat the scraps. The girl is clearly just the messenger but they don’t seem to care, Satoru’s insults and defiance makes them want blood, the source matters not.
Until Satoru growls. It’s a powerful sound, it makes the stone of the altar under him vibrate, the wind chimes around the temple move from side to side and make cheerful music that doesn’t fit the mood that has befallen the crowd.
Yuuji spares his brothers a look, they both lean against a column pressed tightly together. Choso keeps eyeing the dragon with a distrustful and angry look on his face, but Sukuna–he’s looking straight at Yuuji.
Sukuna’s face is a mosaic, he wears his usual scowl, but his eyebrows are tight as he watches Yuuji, like he’s worried about him. It makes Yuuji’s heart flutter a bit, Sukuna the stoic of the two, the King of Curses, the untouchable, worried for his little brother’s mating ceremony.
He blinks back the sting around his eyes and trains his gaze back on the dragon in front of him and the Gojo clan members. The little girl is gone, probably whisked away by a parent after the traumatizing experience of being the most powerful dragon’s interpreter. Yuuji wonders how he’s going to communicate with Satoru without her; but before he can dwell on that too much Satoru is turning around, showing the expanse of his beautiful icy blue mane to the Gojo elders, and to Yuuji, the most beautiful face.
Lion, serpent, tiger, wolf, even an eagle. He can see features of all these animals on Satoru’s face and body, but none of them actually come close to describing what he looks like. And Yuuji feels fear in his heart, a pounding that is not quite him, it’s more primal, an older instinct that must have kept his ancestors safe from predators. This must have been what humans thought Gods looked like once upon a time.
The dragon approaches, his steps as elegant as its flight and when he’s within range Yuuji lifts a hand to touch him, only to be reminded immediately that his wrists are tied to the altar. Satoru seems to notice this because he comes even closer to Yuuji, his snout touches the back of Yuuji’s arm. His nose is cold and a little wet and the two long whiskers protruding from the sides of his mouth tickle him until he’s giggling a little.
Satoru seems to like that reaction and he starts nuzzling all over Yuuji’s front, and back. When he gets to the scent gland on his neck he stops, lingering there for a bit, his nose pressed right against the still raw mating bite.
The touches make him shiver, the heat potion he was given is fully in his system now and even that simple touch by the dragon is making him want more. His kimono feels stifling under the early morning sun.
“Satoru san,” he says, more for lack of anything else to say in his awe. “Aren’t you going to change back into a human for the ceremony?”
The dragon shakes his head no and Yuuji blinks as the implications of this sink in.
“You aren’t changing back? But–but what do you mean? I can’t.... I don’t...” Yuuji sputters, red in the face. Satoru’s dragon form is at least two of him, maybe three. That’s impossible.
Relax.
He doesn’t hear the words as much as feel them inside his skull. But he knows Satoru is thinking them in the same way he knows fire is hot and ice is cold, it’s like an instinct in the back of his mind –a sixth sense– powered by their new bond.
Don’t be afraid.
It’s hard not to be, Satoru’s fangs alone are half the size of his head, a single movement from the dragon’s mouth, just a tiny bit of pressure, and he could slice Yuuji in half.
But Satoru said to trust him, so Yuuji stays still. Even as every instinct screams at him to get up and run, to tear off the ropes binding him and escape as far as two human feet can carry him.
He also said he wanted to hurt you. His own mind supplies, unhelpfully.
Hahaha, I do Yuuji Chan, I do want to. Satoru responds, as if he heard what Yuuji was thinking about – hell, maybe he did. Maybe the bond is a two way street, like a scream answered by a shout.
I’m going to start with this.
Satoru’s fangs tear through the wedding kimono like it’s nothing; the silk breaks down Yuuji’s back, exposing his undergarments and a sliver of his tanned back. He has a few scars there, from a lashing or two by Wasuke when he was younger and stupider. He feels wetness over his shoulder blade where one of the scars sits just below his neck, a slippery thing that doesn’t feel like a tongue, yet couldn’t be anything else.
Like a snake. He thinks.
Who are you calling a snake Yuuji chan?
The voice in his head laughs, but Yuuji can’t unsee it now. Satoru’s elongated body, the tail that swings from side to side, a forged tongue flanked by huge fangs. The snout is more like a wolf or a fox, and the top of white iridescent mane down his back would fit more on a mythical lion than a snake, but the similarities are there.
The dragon growls, his fangs tearing through the rest of the kimono, leaving it in tatters, pooling around Yuuji’s tied wrists and on the floor.
The undergarments are next. A single claw tearing the silk down the middle until Yuuji is practically naked, only a wet fundoshi keeps him from baring it all in front of the Gojo Clan and his own family. Shame burns in his belly as he realizes Sukuna and Choso are probably watching, that the murmurs in the crowd are those of the citizens of his brother’s realm. The realization breaks through the fog of the artificial heat, he’s about to get fucked in front of everyone he cares about, and not even by a human, by a dragon.
His mouth goes dry as the space between his legs leaks slick, soaking through the fundoshi and down his thighs. Satoru smells it, his snout presses right between Yuuji's legs. The claws digging into his back to push him down further and force his ass up on the altar, it hurts and he can feel blood welling up where the claws catch on skin. But he can tell Satoru is being careful, he could easily slice through to the bone with his talons if he wanted to, but he doesn't; each prickle feels more akin to a cat scratch than the claws of a powerful creature twice his size.
You smell so good Yuuji chan. The voice in his head tells him. Do you think they'll be jealous? Your brothers? That I can have you like this and they can't. Suckers.
Laughter bubbles inside his head –not his own again– and with it comes arousal, his cunt clenches around nothing, his little dick twitching under the fundoshi. Any mention of his brothers should have him scramble back, should have make him squirm and protest; instead it makes him wetter and the shame makes his cheeks flame even redder than before.
It's the heat... probably. He doesn't want to examine the feeling if it isn't the induced heat, shouldn't... So he doesn't, and instead focuses on his new mate, this powerful creature who's about to steal him away from his home.
Have you done this before Omega? The dragon asks. Yuuji considers lying. He was supposed to remain a virgin for his husband wasn't he? That’s what tradition dictates of Omegas. But he doesn't think Satoru would care about that, he doesn't seem like the type to take such trivialities seriously.
"Yes – No... only with other Omegas," Yuuji answers honestly, memories flash in his mind of sharing a nest with Junpei when they were pups –experimenting– of trading chaste kisses with Ozawa while in pre-heat, drowning the worst of his heat in Megumi's mouth. They all seem like a lifetime ago, a past that doesn't exist anymore.
Hehehe. The dragon chuckles. Naughty little Omega.
The snout presses between his legs, it gives Yuuji something to rut against, a little friction. It's not gentle. There's little finesse in the movements. But his cock twitches all the same, his cunt leaks more slick, spilling out of his fundoshi. He rubs rubs and rubs. Mouth opening in a silent moan, shaped like an O. Until Satoru has enough, until dragon fangs are ripping the fabric of the fundoshi away from him leaving his cunt bare, pink reddish pubes glistening with slick.
The forked tongue comes back, it slips between his folds, parts them, strokes up his little cock and down the side. It feels so strange, like no human tongue, it’s more like a wet ribbon. And it drives him insane, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull.
His hips start to hump the tongue too, moving with abandon in circles he cannot stop.
Yeah yeah yeah. Right there. He wants to say, but his tongue is tied, his brain scrambled. All he can muster are little ah’s and oh’s under his breath.
Yuuji knows the heat is taking over when an orgasm hits him like a boulder, a sudden snap low in his belly and pleasure that blinds the insides of his eyelids into a searing white. His hips don’t stop moving, thrusting against the tongue and the talon like they are mere toys, even after the orgasm ebbs, he can’t stop himself.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath, sweat falling down his forehead.
Hehehe impatient are we?
“Ah,” he feels it then, a long thin cock spreading his pussy lips, sliding wetly against them. The tip touches his own spent cock and it twitches again, hardening almost instantly. A shiver and more sweat, the fake heat is really settling in, Yuuji feels so empty, he’s so empty, he needs Satoru inside him, needs that long cock in him.
Yuuji brings a hand back, he wishes he could see what he’s touching. The shaft feels hot in his hand, the flesh more akin to a tongue than a human appendage, except maybe if Yuuji thinks about pulling back the head of his own cock, the smooth wet flesh underneath, that’s what the dragon’s feels like throughout.
Perhaps if he were more of sound mind he would have stopped to consider the thin spikes on the underside of the shaft, what their purpose is on a mate... but his mind is too heat addled so he doesn’t. Instead he keeps going, touching down until he meets the bulbous shape of a knot near the base. He gives it a tentative touch and gets a growl right next to his ear for his troubles.
Do you like it Yuuji chan?
"Yes."
Touch it then.
"Can't... my hands."
The rope holding him snaps, he's sure tying him up was part of the ritual, but clearly the dragon doesn’t care. So he won’t either.
With his hands free, Yuuji turns around fully, his eyes finally locking with Satoru's cock. It comes from a wet slit in the dragons lower body, below his belly, where scales give way to tuffs of fur and bare iridescent skin. It's long but thin, more like a tentacle than a human dick. Yuuji reaches out to touch it from tip to bottom. The flesh slippery with his own slick from where it touched him.
With one hand he reaches into himself, coating his hand until it's dripping, and he touches Satoru again, making him wet.
I'm supposed to be the on take you Yuuji chan. Satoru's voice sounds strained even inside Yuuji's head, and the dragon is grunting from the touch, huffing powdery white smoke out of his nose with every breath.
"Then take me."
The dragon growls deep right next to Yuuji's ear, and Yuuji's guiding the tip of his cock to his cunt, brushing it down his cock and between his lips, parting them easily, coating them both further with slick.
When the head breeches him Yuuji gasps loudly, his hand lets Satoru go. And it's like the air becomes charged, a scale tipping. Satoru becomes wild, his talons grasp the entirety of Yuuji's body, pulling him down with a swift motion on his cock. No gentleness whatsoever; Yuuji's so wet from the heat potion and arousal so it only aches and doesn't hurt. Blood paints his thighs and the tip of Satoru's cock inside him. Claws dig at his sides and they scratch, more blood slides down his hip and his back. He’ll bathe on it at this rate. He’ll be all scratched up by the end of this, like a painting.
Yuuji whimpers as more of the dragon’s cock pushes in, it makes it sting behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill out, more overwhelmed than in pain.
Take it for me, you can do it can’t you? You are a good boy, I know you can do it.
“Fuck,” Yuuji grits his teeth.
More, more, more. How can it possibly fit inside him? He feels so full, fuller than he’s ever been; no fingers, nor Omega cock he’s had in the past can compare to this.
A serpentine lick to his neck pulls him out of his daze slightly, Satoru’s cold nose nuzzles down his collarbone. And he realizes it’s stopped, there’s no more cock to fit inside him; or maybe he’s too full already and Gojo just can’t stuff him anymore.
Everything stops. All movement halted in favour of nuzzling at the fresh bite to his neck. Yuuji makes another noise, he doesn’t even know what kind at this point.
His cunt feels like it’s on fire and yet the feeling of Satoru being still inside him makes him want to scream. He can’t stand it, the heat inside him demands movement to be quelled. He wiggles in place, can’t stop his insides from trying to make Satoru move, milk him until he can’t come anymore.
So impatient Yuuji chan. You'll hurt yourself.
You wanted to hurt me, you said so. He wiggles some more, he can almost feel Satoru giving in.
A dark chuckle inside his head. I did, didn't I? Fine, have it your way.
The blood and slick ease the way as Satoru pulls out a little and then slams right in. It stretches Yuuji's cunt to the point of breaking–can't even bring himself to whimper, can't make a sound. It's all condensed in a silent scream inside his throat.
The dragon moves faster, his cock barely pulling all the way out, small little thrusts that make him pliant, held together by claw and fang and the stone of the altar underneath.
I'm glad I'm your first knot Yuuji. He says. Otherwise, I would have had to kill the first.
As he says it, Yuuji feels the bulbous head at the entrance to his cunt. It's not swollen yet, but it means that Satoru somehow managed to cram the entirety of his dragon cock inside him. The spiky underside rubs against his walls, massaging them in a way that nothing ever has, not a tongue or fingers, not even one of his wooden heat toys. This is completely new, and intense, it feels like gentle scratches inside of him, they catch on his flesh and refuse to let go for a moment before giving in and letting Satoru thrust.
It happens again, and again, until it isn't pain anymore what Yuuji feels. It's just intense pressure, a dam about to explode in his belly. He knows he's gonna come again, all it would take is the slightest pressure to his little cock.
Just as he reaches for himself talons slap his hand away, and a bird-like finger touches him instead. It travels down the side of his shaft and up to the end, Satoru's claw dips slightly inside the hole on his tip, doesn't quite penetrate but Yuuji shivers anyway. It could tear him apart, right from the inside if Satoru wanted to.
Instead the pressure makes the dam break, all the pressure building inside his belly releases all at once, and slick squirts between his thighs, escaping the tight clutch of Satoru's cock. Yuuji's vision blurrs, goes white for the second time, his head lolling to the side. The only thing holding him up are Satoru's arms, without them he would slump off the altar like a rag doll.
He doesn't know how long he's out for, just that the next time he manages to open his eyes, Satoru is still fucking him and legs are held apart by his hands, his back bent almost painfully as the dragon moves.
The knot swells a little more with every thrust, catches on Yuuji's hole like it was always meant to be there. The heat is still in him, but it has become a low simmer at the back of his skull. And as the knot locks dragon and boy together, his inner Omega becomes satiated.
Satoru comes inside him with a growl that is more beast than human, his thin dragon body undulating as he tries to empty himself fully inside Yuuji. Warmth floods him from the inside, his cunt twitching and pulsating against the knot, but nothing he can do can dislodge them right now. The thin barbs at the bottom of Satoru’s cock lock in place, digging into Yuuji’s inner walls; he yelps as he feels them dig in. They feel like thorns and every movement he makes drills them in harder, so he has no choice but stay still as much as possible.
Yuuji’s breath comes in ragged bursts, and Satoru looks down at him with those eerie ice blue eyes.
You are alive.
“Barely,” Yuuji pants. He feels sore everywhere and he rubs his hand through his hair to comb it back and it comes back wet with perspiration. “You really did a number on my back Satoru San.”
“It’s Satoru for you Yuuji chan.”
Yuuji yelps as the man behind him –inside him– suddenly shrinks in a flash of purple light. The dragon body is gone, the huge talons replaced by hands holding him steady by the waist and collarbone, the fangs breathing down his neck are just sharp human teeth. Satoru leans forward to bite his still fresh mating gland again, staking his claim further; it barely hurts at that point, not with everything else aching and stinging like he just got out of a brawl.
“Did you know your dick has thorns?” Yuuji says with a scowl.
“Oh yeah! You liked that?” Satoru grins.
“A little warning would be nice next time.”
For a moment Satoru is silent and Yuuji has to angle his head to look up at him. The expression on his face is nothing less than predatory.
“Ooo does that mean Yuuji chan wants to see the dragon again? Is that it? I’ll do it baby, just give me an hour and I’m ready to go again.”
Yuuji squeals and flails his hands, his face pink all over his cheeks.
“Don’t you dare, I’m so sore I think I need a new body.”
“But I like Yuuji chan’s body.”
Their bickering eventually turns to lazy kisses. Satoru peppers them down the column of Yuuji’s back, stopping at the scratches and wounds to lick at them tenderly. It stings and Yuuji would squirm to try and get away from the licks if he wasn’t so tired; but at the same time it feels good to have his Alpha care for him like this. Tend to his wounds like Alphas of yore when humans lived in tight knit packs in the wilderness instead of clans and cities.
As the knot finally goes down and Satoru’s cock slips out of him, Yuuji feels a mix of come and slick trickle down his thighs. There’s dried blood between them too and when he goes to wipe it away Satoru stops him, clutching his hand in his.
“Don’t.”
Just then he becomes aware of movement behind him. The two Miko that tied him down are back. They still wear masks in the shape of dragons that cover their faces, but their ceremonial kimono are not the icy blue of before, instead they were formal black and gold.
Satoru lets go of him and pulls back slightly to give the priestesses room, Yuuji wants to pull him back immediately. He misses the contact between their bodies already, his cunt is so empty and clenching around nothing, his skin clammy with dried sweat and other fluids.
One of the Miko kneels in front of him and yanks his legs open on the altar. Yuuji yelps, instinctively trying to clam his thighs shut. But the Miko has too much strength for Yuuji’s current weakened state. Her fingers swipe over the mess of slick, cum, and blood that is his cunt.
She gives Yuuji a nod and the other priestess hands her a wet handkerchief she uses to wipe between Yuuji’s thighs. The white fabric becomes a reddish brown with dried blood.
Both women seem elated by their discovery, lifting the bloodied handkerchief in the air like a trophy. He doesn’t know what that’s about and he’s about to ask when one of them pulls out a tincture from her robes and begins applying it to each of Yuuji’s open wounds. He hisses in pain and eventually Satoru stops her with a little shove to her shoulder.
“He’s fine, I’ll help him heal later.”
They both shrug and they hand Yuuji a yukata, white with blue flowers embroidered through out. And to Satoru a blue yukata with a white dragon down one arm. They help him dress and Yuuji accepts it because his legs feel like jelly, threatening to topple at any moment.
As they stand to leave, Satoru reaches for the collar of the Miko holding the handkerchief. His face is covered by a white blindfold once more so she can only see the sneer on his mouth as he growls down at her.
“You touch my mate ever again after this and I won’t hesitate to burn your entire temple down. I let you this one time, but never again.”
The priestess doesn’t look away, her mask makes it seem like she’s completely unaffected by the threat. But Yuuji can see the slight shake of her hands as she pulls away and bows towards Satoru.
Once they are gone, Satoru rushes to help him stand, both hands around his waist to keep him balanced.
They fly through the sky, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say they fall gracefully. Before they land Yuuji buries his face on the Alpha’s neck, inhaling deeply. The last traces of the induced heat still lick at his insides.
“Would you let me bite you back one day Satoru San?”
Satoru kisses his forehead and smiles.
“Of course, though I have to warn you, It’ll make them very mad.” With his head he points towards the Gojo Clan elders who are watching as they glide through the air with shocked expressions on their faces.
“Psh, you’d like that,” Yuuji accuses.
“Can’t deny that Yuuji chan.”Gojo lands them in front of his family and nods towards Choso and Sukuna. Choso is holding a box full of medical supplies, ointments and bandages and potions for the pain. His face is bright red.
“His injuries need treating before the feast, and I would like to do it,” Satoru says, clutching Yuuji tighter in his arms. Choso’s face falls slightly, but ultimately he hands the supplies over and Satoru tucks them under one arm, keeping hold of Yuuji with the other.
“Shall we my mate?” He says with a smile.
“Yeah.” Satoru walks back to the shrine and Yuuji grabs on to Gojo’s neck but his eyes look back briefly at Sukuna and Choso and he waves.