Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12026607.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ダイヤのA_|_Daiya_no_A_|_Ace_of_Diamond
  Relationship:
      Kominato_Haruichi/Kominato_Ryousuke
  Character:
      Kominato_Haruichi, Kominato_Ryousuke, Kuramochi_Youichi
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Mating_Cycles/In
      Heat, Rough_Sex, Power_Dynamics, Verbal_Humiliation, Dom/sub_Undertones,
      Knotting, No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Sibling
      Incest, Praise_Kink
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-14 Words: 8817
****** Praiseworthy ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Haruichi is sure someone will notice, someone will know; but if
     anyone on the team has realized they haven’t commented yet, and he's
     grateful for that, even as his impending heat burn to fire in his
     lungs and aches helpless want into every fiber of his being."
     Haruichi can't keep his status as an omega a secret from the rest of
     the team, but who his alpha is is a greater one even than his own
     biology.
It’s hard to stay quiet.
Haruichi knows he needs to be. It’s always a problem, at times like this, when
his blood runs to fire in his veins and his skin comes so alive with sensation
he can feel his clothes pressing close against him as if there’s someone
clinging to him with every step he takes. His mind goes to war with his body,
his rational awareness of his secret running up hard against his body’s needs,
the demands of his physical form that rise higher and higher while his mind
stays level, until he can feel the utter collapse of his rationality thrumming
in the back of his head with every breath he takes, with every motion he makes
that drags his clothes over the heat of his skin and every thought he has that
goes shadowed and pornographic in his mind. He’s hard all the time, over the
least things, and wet besides, until he’s sure someone will notice, someone
will know; but if anyone on the team has realized they haven’t commented yet,
and Haruichi is grateful for that, even as his impending heat burns to fire in
his lungs and aches helpless want into every fiber of his being. He doesn’t
want to have to explain himself, doesn’t want to try to muster rationality when
he’s like this; bad enough that he’s an omega, bad enough that he sacrifices
his self-control whenever his heat sees fit to grip him, whenever biology takes
over his rational mind. But the team is understanding in some cases, and
oblivious in others; and Haruichi can live with that, can live with the flush
that clings to his cheeks and aches in his balls even knowing that his
teammates must know, or suspect at the least, even wondering if they think the
less of him for it, for being an omega on a team full of alphas.
It’s who his mate is that he really can’t let anyone find out.
Haruichi hears the sound of footsteps well before there’s any action at the
door to the dorm room where he’s been lying in the fading light of the sunset
for the last hour. He was told to come here, told to strip to skin and lie
still and wait; and so he did, and does, obedient to his alpha’s orders even as
his spine shudders with terror at getting caught, with the fear of what his
teammates will think if any of them, if even one of them, realize. There would
be no hiding it, with the sweat-heat of his body bare and trembling against the
sheets, no question what he’s here for; and if that’s what his alpha wants
Haruichi knows he’ll surrender to it, knows he’d bow his head and let himself
be taken in front of the whole audience of the team if it was asked of him.
It’s too deep in him, submission too instinctive and running too strong in his
veins alongside the surging waves of desire coursing through his body, that
now, as he is, he can’t make an attempt at resistance even in the space of his
own imagination.
“Good play today.” His alpha’s voice is clear, even through the weight of the
door; Haruichi can feel it run through him like a touch, can feel it settle
down in his hips and twitch his cock harder against the sheets underneath him.
He presses his lips tight on a whimper, squeezes his eyes shut behind the fall
of his hair; but it doesn’t block his ears, it doesn’t shut out the soft
syllables in that voice as familiar as Haruichi’s own, as much a part of his
existence as the beat of his heart and the electricity of his thoughts. “That
last hit was really great.”
“Why does everything you say always sound sarcastic?” Another voice, less
important even if Haruichi could attach a name to it from amidst the wash of
heat surging over him; he doesn’t open his eyes for this own, takes the
opportunity instead to part his lips and breathe slow. “I don’t think I’ve ever
heard you sound sincere even once.”
“I am sincere.” His alpha again; Haruichi’s breathing sticks, his skin feels
like it’s on fire. He frees his arm from under the weight of his body, reaching
down between his legs to grind his wrist in against himself. It’s not enough,
the pressure is closer to pain than to pleasure, but he can’t make himself pull
away, he’s rocking forward to grind into the angle of his forearm as his
breathing goes hotter on the sound of his alpha’s voice, on the soft slur of
that half-mocking tone. “Do you not think so?”
“God,” another voice, a third one, laughs. Haruichi wonders dizzily if they’ll
have an audience, if his alpha will ask him to make a presentation of their
coupling for the wide eyes of his dormmates. Haruichi wishes he could make
himself mind the idea. “That was worst of all.” There’s a laugh, all three of
them together; and then the sound of a hand at the door, fingers tightening and
turning the knob, and Haruichi has to press his lips tight together to keep
from whimpering something between panic and arousal as the door comes open a
crack, as a sliver of golden light bleeds into the room to threaten to reveal
him there. The fresh air feels cool, like the breeze off the baseball field
curling in and against Haruichi’s hair; and the stifling heat inside must be
spilling free too, because he can hear the sound of one of the two additional
voices taking an inhale, can hear the groan from the other as the weight of the
room hits them.
“Fuck,” one says, his voice dropping low and resonant. “You shouldn’t keep your
mate waiting like that, you know.”
“I know,” Haruichi’s alpha says, purring over the words until Haruichi’s vision
sparks to white, until he wonders if he might come from the sound of that voice
alone. “It’s more fun this way, though.”
A laugh, from the other, Haruichi thinks. It’s hard to think at all, as it is,
with the open door to give away any sound in his throat and that line of light
promising company sooner rather than later. “You really are a sadist. It must
be awful to be your omega.”
“What, do you want to give it a try?” Haruichi’s alpha says. This gets a laugh,
as it was meant to; the burst of sound is enough to cover Haruichi’s hissing
inhale, the gasp of pain that hits him at the very idea of his alpha touching
someone else, owning someone else, needing someone else. “You’re no beta,
Kuramochi. Get your own mate before you start trying to poach others’.”
“Guess that means I’ve got to find somewhere else to sleep,” the other voice
sighs. “You could have warned me, you know.”
“I didn’t know he was ready,” Haruichi’s alpha lies, with that smooth grace
that Haruichi can’t help but admire. “You know how omegas are, they get so
flighty during their heats they can barely remember their own name.”
“You’d better go in and make sure he knows yours,” Kuramochi teases, and both
the other two laugh.
“Hey,” the second voice says, idle curiosity under the word. “Isn’t your little
brother in heat now too?”
“Yeah,” Haruichi’s alpha says. “His cycle adjusted to match after I got a
mate.”
“That happens, you know,” Kuramochi says, with the all-knowing tone of a man
with absolutely no personal experience. “Miyuki says it’s the pheromones.”
A snort. “Are you taking advice from Kazuya now?” the other speaker asks. “What
are you doing asking a beta about that kind of thing? Does he let you practice
on him or something?”
“This is fascinating,” Haruichi’s alpha cuts in, “but I have…” as he lifts his
hand around the edge of the door to gesture towards the inside of the room,
where Haruichi is trembling helplessly against the sheets of the narrow bed.
“If you’ll excuse me?”
“Oh yeah,” the third speaker says. “Have fun, god knows you won’t be getting
any sleep tonight.”
“You’d better not skip out on practice tomorrow,” Kuramochi says. “Unless you
want your omega brother to take your place again.”
“I doubt he’ll be any better rested.” Another laugh, another motion as the door
comes open wider by another inch. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bye,” and “See ya” from the other side of the door; and then footsteps, a
shadow cutting in front of the golden glow of the setting sun in the doorway.
The door comes wide, light flickers in and over Haruichi’s face; and then
Ryosuke turns, and pushes the door shut again, urging it into place until the
latch clicks. Haruichi shudders against the bed, shutting his eyes as Ryosuke
turns the deadbolt with deliberate care, as Ryosuke takes a step to the other
side of the room to turn on the lightswitch and flood the space with
illumination; it’s only as the other takes a breath to speak that Haruichi
opens his eyes to blink hazy focus up at his alpha still standing by the
doorway.
“You really are a mess.” Ryosuke isn’t even turning around from where he’s
standing by the lightswitch; all Haruichi can see of him is the tilt of his
head, the fall of his hair and the steady line of his shoulders. But he can
smell him with perfect clarity, can all but taste him in the air: rich as
perfume, heady as wine, a presence that unwinds some of the panicked loneliness
in Haruichi’s blood, that promises relief for the need he can feel coursing
through the very marrow of his bones. “I could smell you from across the field
all during practice.” He turns away from the switch, pivoting smoothly on one
heel to meet Haruichi’s heavy-lidded gaze; his attention skims over the curl of
Haruichi’s naked body, the angle of his wrist pressing in against his hips, the
sweat-dark of the other’s hair sticking to his forehead, considering the whole
picture of his omega’s body without the least indication of surprise at
anything he’s seeing.
“Everyone could,” he goes on, lifting a hand to casually push at the button at
his collar and ease the fabric free of its fastenings. He’s still wearing his
undershirt, Haruichi can see the dark sleeves clinging close to Ryosuke’s arms
as the other works open the front of his shirt, but even so the motion towards
undressing is enough to stall Haruichi’s breathing, enough to turn his voice to
a helpless moan in the back of his throat. Ryosuke doesn’t blink, doesn’t show
the least sign of noticing the other’s reaction; he just goes on unfastening
his uniform shirt, working the buttons open so he can shrug it down and off his
shoulders. “I don’t think there was a person on the team who didn’t know you
were going to get yourself bred tonight.” He turns to toss the shirt over the
back of the chair at one of the desks; Haruichi’s mouth goes dry at the flex of
Ryosuke’s muscles as he turns, at the shift of the other’s body as he sheds the
topmost layer of his clothes. “Even the other omegas could tell.”
“I know,” Haruichi gasps. He feels like he’s drowning, like the heat in his
veins is surging high and stripping the air right out of his lungs as Ryosuke
reaches out to brace a hand at the wall and toe his shoes off. “I’m sorry,
aniki.”
“A few of them thought about having you themselves,” Ryosuke continues, as
smoothly as if he hasn’t heard Haruichi speak at all. “I could see it in the
way they were looking at you.” He reaches for the front of his uniform pants to
unfasten the fly, to open the button and urge the fabric off his hips and down
his legs; Haruichi has to duck his head down against the sweat-damp of the
pillow under him, has to pant for breath as he grinds his wrist in against
himself with painful force. “Wondering if you’ve been mated yet.” There’s the
sound of fabric drawing over itself, a huff of an exhale from Ryosuke as he
strips his shirt up and over his head; Haruichi jerks like he’s been shocked
with the force of the desire that rushes through him at the clarity of that one
sound. “Wondering if they could find you around the corner of one of the dorms,
if they could push you down and claim you for their own before anyone else
did.” Another drag of sound; Haruichi would swear he can smell Ryosuke’s bare
skin, would tell anyone who asked that he can sense the other’s body in the
room, as if the magnetism that draws him closer at times like this is crackling
in the air between them.
“What would they think if they knew?” Ryosuke says. It’s not a question, for
all that it’s framed as one, and Haruichi doesn’t try to answer; he just pants
into the pillow beneath him, feeling his cock twitch against the inside of his
wrist, feeling his whole body quiver like it’s resonating in time with the
sound of Ryosuke’s footsteps scuffing soft over the dorm room floor. “That’s
what I was thinking about.” His hand touches Haruichi’s skin, his fingers
ghosting just against the base of the other’s spine, and Haruichi’s entire body
flexes on the jolt of heat that hits him, his lungs emptying themselves into a
gasp that goes low and throaty in spite of himself at the electricity of his
alpha’s fingers against him, at the relief of having that friction against his
touch-starved body. Ryosuke doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t seem to notice
Haruichi’s reaction at all; he just slides his hand in closer, pressing in and
around to curl his fingers at the other’s hip, to brace his grip at Haruichi’s
skin with force careless of the way Haruichi jerks with the contact, the way
Haruichi’s body flares fever-hot with his alpha’s touch on him.
“I was thinking about taking you right then and there,” Ryosuke says, and his
hand pulls, his grip dragging Haruichi up and over his knees regardless of the
trembling weakness that has so suffused his body. Haruichi moans again, feels
himself starting to slide forward as his muscles refuse to function, as his
body tries to melt into surrender; but Ryosuke’s grip braces him still,
Ryosuke’s hold fixes him to upright as the end of the bed shifts as the other
comes in to kneel behind Haruichi on the bed before him. “Telling you to drop
to your knees right there, shoving your face into the dirt and breeding you in
front of the whole team so they would know who you belong to.” Haruichi can
feel his stomach knot at the idea, his heart skidding with the horror of it
even as his cock jerks, as his body tries to tense in helpless response to
Ryosuke’s words.
Ryosuke huffs a breath, a laugh muffled soft through his nose. “You’d like
that,” he says, and his thumb presses against Haruichi’s body, the weight of it
sliding against the wet of the arousal Haruichi has had building in him all
day. “You would do it, wouldn’t you?” Haruichi ducks his head, nodding against
the pillow beneath him; but Ryosuke doesn’t draw his hand away, doesn’t ease
the threat of his thumb against Haruichi’s body. “Haruichi.”
“Yes,” Haruichi gasps, feeling like he’s wrestling the words free of the strain
on his chest. They come out high and breathy, skipping into the range he hasn’t
hit since before his first heat, before he knew what it would feel like to be
willing to die for relief for the fire burning so hot in him. “Anything you
want, aniki.”
“Anything,” Ryosuke repeats, echoing the word like he’s savouring it; and he
draws his touch back from Haruichi’s entrance, sliding his palm to brace
against the curve of the other’s ass instead. “Good.” Haruichi can feel himself
opening to the pull of Ryosuke’s fingers, can feel the heat within him being
laid open for his brother’s attention, for his alpha’s use; down against the
sheets his breath spills on a whimper, his fingers twist to a fist.
“I want you,” Ryosuke tells him; and then there’s motion, the shift of
Ryosuke’s knees on the bed as his legs flex, as his hips come forward, as the
head of his cock slides forward and into Haruichi’s body, filling the aching
want within the other in a single movement. Haruichi jerks at the bed, his eyes
going wide as his body seizes tight on a helpless convulsion around Ryosuke’s
cock; but Ryosuke doesn’t pause, barely even slows in his thrust as he rocks
forward to fill the whole of Haruichi’s body in a sudden jolt of pressure.
Haruichi chokes for air, his lungs trying to fight for breath around the
startling, immediate strain inside him; and Ryosuke presses flush against his
entrance, the swelling thickness of his knot running up against the heat of
Haruichi’s body and finally stalling his forward movement.
“Damn,” Ryosuke says, sounding far more out of breath than he did a moment ago,
as if the heat of Haruichi’s body has melted away some part of his cool
composure on contact. “I wondered if you could take me all at once, after
waiting all day.” He presses forward again, rocking his weight in to pin hard
against Haruichi before him; Haruichi can feel the strain against his entrance,
can feel his body rocking forward in spite of himself, but even hours of pent-
up heat isn’t enough to let him take Ryosuke’s knot so immediately, even if he
can feel the aching want for it itching under his skin and clinging weight to
every inhale he takes.
“That’s fine,” Ryosuke says. “It won’t take long, anyway.” He lifts his hand
from Haruichi’s ass, reaching out instead to pin his grip hard against the back
of the other’s neck; Haruichi’s breath spills from him in a rush of involuntary
surrender, his whole body falling slack in instinctive submission to the weight
of the fingers against him. Ryosuke makes a low note in the back of his throat,
something hot and pleased, and he tightens his hold at Haruichi’s hip, dragging
the other back as he pulls out by an inch to thrust back in, to grind the
thickness at the base of his cock against the give of the other’s body. “You’ll
open up for me in a minute like always.”
“Yes,” Haruichi moans against the pillow, hearing his voice run ragged on heat
and not caring, not having the strength in him to muster self-consciousness
when he can feel Ryosuke moving inside him, filling up the ache that he’s been
carrying with him through all the long hours of the day, cooling the edge of
burning want that Haruichi has been so consumed by since he stripped his
clothes off the aching fever-hurt of his skin. “Aniki, please, I need it, I
need you, please.”
“Save your breath,” Ryosuke tells him, and Haruichi closes his mouth at once,
pressing his lips tight together in instinctive obedience even as the flood of
desperation in his throat is spilling up to press over his tongue, to curl to
tension in the back of his throat. “You’ll have more than enough time to scream
yourself hoarse once I have you knotted.” His hips buck forward again, his cock
stroking through another long, dragging thrust; Haruichi tightens around him,
shuddering with the feel of Ryosuke moving inside him, of Ryosuke’s cock
pressing far into his body, farther with every thrust but not enough, not yet,
not when there’s still that too-much movement that says they’re not tied
together yet. Ryosuke’s hips come forward and push hard against Haruichi’s; but
there’s still not enough leeway, not enough slack between them to let him slip
forward and in. Ryosuke hisses and draws back, entirely this time, sliding
himself free of the tension of Haruichi’s body completely until Haruichi tenses
and gasps the start of panic as he twists to look back over his shoulder at
this sudden absence.
“Down,” Ryosuke says, offering an order instead of reassurance, and he pushes
hard at Haruichi’s hip to bear the other down to the bed. Haruichi’s knees
slip, his thighs tilt open against the sheets as Ryosuke’s touch forces him
down against the soft of the fabric; it’s an ache, a stretch against the inside
line of his practice-sore muscles, but it doesn’t matter because Ryosuke is
leaning back in again, pressing himself against Haruichi’s slick-hot entrance
once more, and Haruichi would be willing to take far more discomfort than this
to have Ryosuke back inside him again. Ryosuke slides forward, taking his
thrust long and slow, like he’s giving Haruichi a chance to ease into it, this
time; and Haruichi can feel the pressure straining against him, can feel his
body tensing and easing in tiny, convulsive tremors as Ryosuke pushes against
him, as Haruichi tries to relax enough to let him in.
“Almost,” Ryosuke says, more to himself than to Haruichi. He leans in closer,
pressing down hard at the back of the other’s neck; the angle strains at
Haruichi’s spine and forces his face down against the pillow underneath him
until it’s hard to breathe, until he can feel his chest flexing with the desire
for air. His fingers tighten against the sheets, his shoulders shift with the
desire to pull away, with the need to rock back, conscious thought and physical
desperation warring with each other as Ryosuke’s cock slides deep into him; and
then Ryosuke’s knot presses against him, and Ryosuke’s fingers tighten at the
back of Haruichi’s neck, and Haruichi can feel all the building tension in his
body ease into slack surrender at once. Ryosuke pushes, and Haruichi’s body
gives way, opening to the demands of his alpha’s needs; and then Ryosuke is
groaning full-throated with satisfaction, and his cock is sinking into
Haruichi, the thick heat of the knot forcing past the other’s entrance to lock
itself just inside him. Haruichi’s whole body tightens, a single involuntary
spasm at the feel of Ryosuke pressing into him; and over him Ryosuke sighs, and
inside him Ryosuke swells wider, his arousal spurred by Haruichi’s helpless
reaction to tie them inextricably together for the duration of Ryosuke’s need.
“There,” Ryosuke says, sounding heavy and satisfied as if he’s already come, as
if the struggle of chasing down his physical relief is accomplished already and
now all that is left is the appreciation. His hand at Haruichi’s neck eases,
his fingers draw down the other’s spine; Haruichi shudders at the contact,
feeling the friction prickling out across his back and through the whole of his
body, but he’s still struggling for breath, still trying to find his way back
to a reasonable rhythm for his inhales while his whole body is straining around
that heat within him. Ryosuke ducks in over him, letting his weight come down
to pin against Haruichi’s back, to press the other against the sheets; when his
bracing grip at the other’s hip loosens it’s only to dip in and around, to
slide under Haruichi’s body and reach for the strain of his cock. “I’ve got you
now.”
Haruichi turns his head and gasps for air against the humidity filling the room
with the soft scent of his own arousal, with the musky weight of Ryosuke’s to
match and overwhelm him. “Aniki,” he says, a statement all by itself without
any additional words to follow in its wake; and then Ryosuke’s fingers brush
against the painful stiffness of his cock, and he jerks at once, his whole body
spasming under Ryosuke’s as his eyes go wide, as the air in his lungs rushes
out of him at once. “Ah.”
“Yes,” Ryosuke says, and his hand tightens around Haruichi, his grip tighter
than it needs to be and everything Haruichi is craving. There are calluses on
his fingers, rough patches from the weight of the baseball mitt, from the
texture of the bat; Haruichi can feel them drag over him as if they were formed
for his own pleasure, as if Ryosuke’s hands are custom-shaped to catch and pull
every tremor of sensation from the erection he’s been suffering through since
he woke this morning. “That’s what you need, isn’t it?” His hand braces at the
bed alongside Haruichi, his shoulders flex to lift his weight barely off the
other and give himself more space to move; Haruichi shudders with the drag of
Ryosuke’s hand, feels his whole body going hot again with an echo of that fever
that has gripped him all day, with the summertime burn that is spiking hotter
now than it was even when he was standing in the middle of the field with the
sun beating down on the back of his neck and the thought of Ryosuke’s fingers
swamping his attention.
“I know,” Ryosuke says; and his hand pulls harder, his fingers tighten down on
Haruichi’s length until Haruichi is panting with it, until Haruichi’s vision is
flickering to spots from the desperate shallowness of his breathing. “You just
wanted my hands on you, that’s what you were thinking about all through
practice.” He leans in closer, his lips brush Haruichi’s hair. “You would have
let me do this, right?” he murmurs, so near his voice spills over Haruichi’s
ear, the heat of it as striking as the sound. “In the corner of the locker
room, before anyone else got there, or just in the shadow of the vending
machine.”
“Yes,” Haruichi pants. His hips are tilting forward, trying to chase down the
pull of Ryosuke’s hand with involuntary instinct; his eyes are still open but
he’s no more paying attention to his vision than he is thinking of the words
that are rushing from his lips. “Aniki, please, yes.”
“No,” Ryosuke says, and Haruichi almost whimpers with the refusal on his voice,
even as that grip around him speeds to a fever pitch. “It wouldn’t have been
enough.” His hips shift, his cock pulls inside Haruichi, and Haruichi’s head
goes back, his throat opening up on a moan from the depths of his body as the
sound forms around the aching pressure of feeling Ryosuke inside him, knotted
in against his entrance where Haruichi needs him, wants him, has to have him.
“You needed this” as Ryosuke’s hand speeds, as the calluses along his fingers
and across his palm drag rough over the head of Haruichi’s cock, as Haruichi
feels his stomach twist on anticipation as his balls pull tight against the
base of his cock in answer to Ryosuke’s urging. “You’re in heat, you needed to
be mated, you needed my knot inside you when you came.”
Ryosuke’s breath rushes over Haruichi’s skin, his teeth catch at the edge of
the other’s ear. “Now,” he says, and his hand tightens, his fingers slide.
“Come, Haruichi” and Haruichi’s mouth comes open, his head goes back, and he
comes, spasming through a rush of heat that seems to go on forever, that pulls
the fever from his blood and the need from his bones and spills it out over
Ryosuke’s grip and the tangle of the sheets beneath them. He’s shaking, his
whole self is tightening helplessly under Ryosuke’s body, around Ryosuke’s
cock; and Ryosuke is breathing harder, is pulling back to drag against the
tension of Haruichi’s body flexing around him. Haruichi can feel the knot
inside him pulling at his inner walls, can feel the force of Ryosuke fucking
back against him as if he’s trying to break free, as if he can possibly pull
loose of Haruichi’s body now that they’re joined; and then Ryosuke gusts an
exhale, and groans “Haruichi,” far in the back of his throat, and Haruichi can
feel the other’s cock jerk inside him, can feel the involuntary twitch of
orgasm and the surge of heat as Ryosuke comes in long pulses into his body. It
swells inside him, the pressure bearing down against him as Ryosuke fills him
with the first rush of his come; and Haruichi’s eyes roll back, his legs tense
with another spasm of pleasure as some deep-down instinct in him is gratified
by the feel of his alpha’s seed spilling into his body. It’s only as Ryosuke’s
breathing levels off into the panting aftershocks of heat that Haruichi’s own
orgasm loosens its hold on him enough that he can blink focus back into heat-
blurred eyes, and gasp air into pleasure-strained lungs, and collect himself
for whatever Ryosuke has left to give him.
“Ah,” Ryosuke sighs finally, easing his hold on Haruichi’s softening cock so he
can brace himself over the bed with both palms at once. “I’ve been looking
forward to that all day.”
Haruichi turns his head to look back over his shoulder, feeling himself tighten
with a surge of panic at the implication of Ryosuke’s words. “You’re not done,
are you?”
Ryosuke’s snort is loud against the heat-soaked humidity of the room. “Of
course not,” he says, and reaches to push at the back of Haruichi’s head to
turn the other back down against the pillow. “I’m not about to be one-upped by
an omega’s stamina.” His hips roll forward, his knot shifts just inside
Haruichi’s body; Haruichi has to bite his lip against the friction of it,
against the feel of Ryosuke idly fucking against him with the languid
anticipation of a fresh knot, with the promise of a long span of pleasure still
ahead of them. “You’ll be begging for relief by the time I’m done with you.”
“But--”
“Haruichi,” Ryosuke says, and his tone has barely shifted, his words are only
barely lower; but Haruichi’s speech dies in his throat, his voice stifled where
it lies by the dominance on Ryosuke’s tone. “Have I ever left you unsatisfied?”
There’s no pause for an answer, no hesitation in his voice, and Haruichi
doesn’t have a reply to give, not when they both know the reality of the
situation. Ryosuke shifts his weight, sliding his knees wider until they press
against the inside of Haruichi’s, until he’s forcing the other’s thighs to
spread open against the bed so Haruichi can feel the ache against the inside of
his legs, can feel the strain of his position purring up his spine to start a
renewed rush of heat in his veins. He tries to shift, adjusting his weight in a
futile attempt to ease some of that aching pull; and behind him Ryosuke makes a
low sound down in the depths of his chest and tips his hips forward to push
against the pressure of Haruichi’s body again as his cock starts to tighten
again, the brief easing of his orgasm giving way to the promise of more as
quickly as Haruichi can start to think of it. “I’m far from done with you yet.”
He’s not wrong. It takes Haruichi some time to return to arousal, even with his
body trembling and tight on the need to be taken, on the desire to be owned, on
the aching, jealous instinct to drain his alpha of all the seed he has to give;
but Ryosuke suffers no such delay, not with his cock still knotted tight within
Haruichi’s body. He pins Haruichi down to the bed under him, bracing a hand
against the other’s hips to hold the heat of his body down against the sheets
damp and sticky with sweat and come together, and when he rocks his hips
Haruichi can feel the pressure of the other’s knot moving within him, sliding
forward and back against the minimal action Ryosuke can take like this while
the tension of Haruichi’s body provides the only stimulus his alpha needs.
Haruichi lets the sensation wash over him, feels the ache and pull of it like
it’s settling in the pit of his stomach, like it’s cooling the strain of
desperate need that has burned so bright in him all day, and when Ryosuke’s
cock jerks with another surge of come Haruichi is the one who moans against the
bed, his own length twitching to heat against his stomach as if the feel of
Ryosuke filling him is enough to stir his arousal back to full strength once
more. He thinks Ryosuke will jerk him off again, expects the pressure of that
hand against his hips to slide in and around to fist around his cock and pull
another helpless rush of relief out of his body; but Ryosuke doesn’t even shift
his hold, barely even pauses in the motion of his hips as he rides Haruichi
through his own orgasm. There’s no delay this time, no hesitation while he
catches his breath from the latest surge of pleasure; he just keeps moving, the
pull of his cock inside Haruichi relentless and methodical, and it’s as
Haruichi feels the pressure inside him building again that he realizes what it
is Ryosuke intends.
“Oh,” he gasps, twisting his head in an attempt to look over his shoulder
clouded by the fall of his hair over his eyes, by the sweat-dark curtain of the
pale locks tangling against his eyelashes. “Aniki?”
“Quiet,” Ryosuke tells him. He has his head ducked down, has his gaze fixed
against Haruichi’s shoulders; his arm pinning the other down is braced out, his
fingers spread wide just over the curve of Haruichi’s ass before him. “Not
yet.”
Haruichi huffs an exhale and tries to gain traction with his knees against the
sheets so he can push himself back, or maybe so he can pull against the
friction of Ryosuke fucking into him, so he can feel the strain of the other’s
cock taking those short, shallow thrusts within the tension of his body.
“Please, aniki,” he says, trying to lift his hips by an inch so he can slide
his hand down against himself, so he can drag his fingers up over the aching
want in him. “I want to, please.”
“No,” Ryosuke says again, and Haruichi’s body goes slack as instantly as if his
body is reacting to Ryosuke’s commands more than his own intent. “The next
one.”
“Please,” Haruichi says, feeling his throat tighten with heat, feeling his
balls draw up with the need to come, with the desire to spill out over the
sheets at the same time Ryosuke’s cock is pumping another rush of come up into
the heat of his body. “Aniki, please, just a little, just a minute.”
“No,” Ryosuke says, his words unflinching even as his movement comes faster, as
the shift of his weight spikes to a feverish speed. Haruichi gasps against the
sheets, feeling the sound like a sob in his throat, and over him Ryosuke huffs,
and bucks forward, and comes again. It might be less than the first time, it
might be a weaker orgasm; but if it is Haruichi can’t tell the difference,
can’t separate the paper-thin distinction between Ryosuke’s first orgasm and
this one. He wonders how long Ryosuke will keep him knotted, this time, wonders
how long their bodies will remain joined by the grip of his own need, by the
strain of Ryosuke’s answering desire; and then Ryosuke leans in over him, and
his hand slides away from Haruichi’s spine, and Haruichi gasps an inhale of
sudden anticipation as Ryosuke’s hand dips in and around his hip.
“Haruichi,” Ryosuke’s voice purrs, low as temptation at his ear; and then his
fingers close around Haruichi’s length, and Haruichi’s entire body flexes up in
a helpless, convulsive action. Ryosuke moves inside him, the pressure of his
knot drags hard against Haruichi’s entrance; but he’s still too hot, still too
swollen with want to slip free. The idea of that, of Ryosuke’s desire for him
locking them together even after what satisfaction he has already mustered, is
enough on its own to jerk in Haruichi’s thighs, to seize his breathing, until
he thinks in a distant, dizzy way that he might come just from that, while
Ryosuke is still settling his fingers into a grip against his length.
“Do you want to come?” Ryosuke asks. His breathing is hot against Haruichi’s
ear, as hot as that burning want running through Haruichi’s veins in answer to
his alpha’s touch, the fever that is crushing over him until he thinks he might
drown, until he feels if he inhales he might fill his lungs with nothing but
steam to answer the desperate need for oxygen in his straining chest. “Is that
what you want me to do to you?”
Haruichi moans. It’s wordless, thoughtless, helpless; just a sound, just noise
to answer Ryosuke’s question. He can barely pay attention to what the other is
saying for how slurring-hot his thoughts are going, for the effect of the want
so possessing his every motion, his every breath.
“Yes,” Ryosuke says; and he pulls up, his hand stroking up over Haruichi’s
length, and Haruichi jerks again, shuddering with force he can’t even hope to
hold back. Over him Ryosuke grunts heat, the sound drawn out of him by
Haruichi’s movement; but his hand doesn’t loosen, his hold doesn’t ease. “Tell
me.” His hand fists against Haruichi’s length, too much pressure, not nearly
enough; Haruichi’s vision is blurring, he can’t see straight even when he
fights for it. “Beg me for it.”
“Ah.” Haruichi can’t find words, can’t fumble himself into coherency; it’s all
awash in his mind, his awareness and his grip on language together melting away
to reduce him to a tight knot of instinct, of some desire so deep-down he can’t
control it, can’t hope to do anything but let it use him as surely as Ryosuke
will, as Ryosuke is even now, as he rocks in against Haruichi with tiny,
rocking motions as if to drive the other’s orgasm from him as much as pull it.
Haruichi’s head goes down against the sheets, his breathing tears out of his
chest. “Nn.”
“Beg me,” Ryosuke says again, his voice too certain to leave space for refusal,
even as he issues an order Haruichi can’t fulfill with his whole body turned
into trembling heat by Ryosuke’s touch. “Haruichi. Tell me.”
“Hh,” Haruichi gasps; and then Ryosuke’s fingers tighten, squeezing with such
pressure at the head of his cock that his eyes go wide, that his shoulders
seize on a wail of near-pain. But he’s too close, he’s too hot, the fever in
him melts the edge of hurt into pleasure instead; and Ryosuke is panting at his
ear, the demand of his words still lingering in Haruichi’s mind like they’ve
been branded there. Haruichi sucks in a desperate lungful of air, filling his
chest with the sticky weight of the humidity around them, and Ryosuke’s grip
eases, his hold pulls up in a long, smooth stroke just as Haruichi chokes out
“Aniki” in a voice so strained he doesn’t even recognize it as his own. Ryosuke
sighs, satisfaction heavy at Haruichi’s ear, and his hand pulls, and Haruichi
dissolves, collapsing into shuddering orgasm as Ryosuke pulls the pulses of
sensation in him long and sticky on heat. The friction goes on and on,
unravelling the knot of tension in him and drawing more, deeper, emptying the
strain of his body and still demanding more, until finally Haruichi is jolting
with every stroke of Ryosuke’s hand, until his inhales are more pleas for
relief than begging for more. Ryosuke continues for a moment, while Haruichi
quivers and trembles and jolts; and then he lets go, and leans in, and brings
his hand in to Haruichi’s hip instead.
“Come here,” he says, the words insistent enough to cut through Haruichi’s
heat-fogged awareness; and then he pulls, and Haruichi is turning, following
the urging of Ryosuke’s hands with the whole slack weight of his body. Ryosuke
pulls them sideways until Haruichi is taking the weight of his body at his hip
instead of over his aching thighs; and he keeps going, twisting until Haruichi
is sprawling against Ryosuke’s chest, until he’s blinking dazed attention up at
the bottom of the bunk bed over them. Ryosuke takes a breath deep enough that
Haruichi can feel it shift behind him; and then he pushes, his fingers digging
at at Haruichi’s hip to urge him to motion. “Sit up.”
Haruichi does. It takes him some time; he’s still shaky with the force of his
orgasm, still dizzy and breathless and so overheated he thinks he might pass
out if he moves too fast. But his alpha has told him to move, and so he does,
awkwardly and slowly but moving all the same to get his knees in under him, to
brace his hand at the bed and push himself to upright. Ryosuke shifts inside
him as he moves, the heat of his cock sliding against the other until Haruichi
wonders if he’s going to pull free, if this is enough, yet; but the knot still
holds them fast, still tethers him to the demands of his alpha’s desire, and
then Haruichi is upright, kneeling on the bed atop his brother’s hips while he
ducks his head under the slats overhead and listens to the sound of his shaky
breathing while he tries to stay upright.
“Good,” Ryosuke says, that one word of praise enough all alone to twitch in
Haruichi’s exhausted cock, to flicker pleasure along some distant horizon. His
hands tighten at Haruichi’s hips, his fingers pull to urge motion. “Turn
around.”
Haruichi blinks and feels his forehead creasing on confusion. “What?” He looks
back over his shoulder to try to make sense of this; but Ryosuke’s expression
is as unreadable as ever, from the dark of his lashes to the quirk of that
near-permanent smile at his lips.
“Turn,” Ryosuke repeats, this time coupling the command with a shove at
Haruichi’s shoulder that nearly tips him off-balance entirely. “Around. I want
to see you.”
Haruichi feels the pressure inside him, the heat of Ryosuke still knotted into
place within his body; and he shakes his head, rejecting the impossibility of
this even if he can’t find the voice to tell his alpha no. “Too much,” he
manages, panting over the words as he considers the strain of it, the friction,
the feel of Ryosuke’s length shifting and settling as he turns. “It’s too much,
I--”
“You can,” Ryosuke says, and there’s no room in his voice for impossibilities,
no space for even reasonable protest. His hand at Haruichi’s hip tightens, his
fingers dig in against the sweat-slick of the other’s skin. “Turn around or
I’ll take us down to the floor and do it myself.” It’s not a threat, not
exactly; and it’s that that catches Haruichi’s breath in his chest, that
thought of Ryosuke pinning him to the texture of the floor alongside the bed
and pushing him into whatever position the other wants him. Haruichi doesn’t
know if he’s more alarmed or aroused by the idea; and he won’t find out today,
in any case. He braces a hand against the bed, tightens his fingers against the
sheets to hold himself steady; and he starts to turn, slowly, whimpering with
the feeling as Ryosuke shifts inside him with every flex of his shaking legs.
Ryosuke doesn’t speak again as Haruichi starts moving; it’s enough, it seems,
to have him obedient, to have him taking action, however slowly. Haruichi has
to keep pausing, has to wait while the surge of sensation eases, while his body
adjusts to this newest angle before he continues on to the next; he imagines he
can feel Ryosuke’s come inside him, imagines he can feel the hot weight of it
pulling and shifting as he moves. The thought flushes his cheeks and burns
against his skin; by the time he’s pinning his knees in against Ryosuke’s hips
and gasping an exhale of breathless relief he’s half-hard again in spite of his
bone-deep exhaustion, his body responding to the demands of Ryosuke’s even as
rationality protests, even as his dizzy mind rejects the idea of pulling more
pleasure from his spent body.
“Good,” Ryosuke says again. His hands settle at Haruichi’s hips, his fingers
fit against the heat of the other’s skin; his palms are sticky, they catch and
cling to Haruichi’s body as fast as Ryosuke tightens his hold. Haruichi feels
heavy, overheated, limp with too much anticipation and too much sensation and
too much Ryosuke, too much of that attention that he craves like a drug and
can’t stop aching for even as he goes dizzy with the overwhelming force of it.
When Ryosuke’s hands pull him forward Haruichi goes, his weight rocking in
against Ryosuke’s knot without any thought in his head at all, and when Ryosuke
huffs an exhale Haruichi is moaning right along with him, not sure if it’s pain
or pleasure he’s feeling most clearly.
“Just like that,” Ryosuke says; and then, as his hands ease, and his hold goes
steadying instead of leading, “Ride me, Haruichi.”
Haruichi doesn’t protest. He would, if he had more strength; or maybe he
wouldn’t, maybe he would already be moving without being told. It’s impossible
to tell, hard even to think of it as he braces his shaking legs against
Ryosuke’s hips, as he steadies a hand against the bed over Ryosuke’s shoulder;
and then he moves, pulling himself up as much as he can before sinking back
down, and coherency fractures out and away from him at the feeling: the pull of
the knot at his entrance and the drag of Ryosuke inside him and the pressure of
Ryosuke’s pleasure already full within him, already marking him as Ryosuke’s
own. Haruichi moans, the sound spilling from his throat as helplessly as his
spent cock twitches with an effort towards heat; and he moves again, straining
against Ryosuke before sinking back down to take the other as far into himself
as he can. His vision is blurring, his breathing is sticking; he can’t see,
can’t speak, can’t muster anything but whimpering moans with every inhale. It’s
too much, he can’t handle it, it’s more than his body can bear; but he can’t
stop moving, his rhythm is being drawn out of him as if it’s part of the
impulse that comes with his heat.
He presses his hand to Ryosuke’s chest, his fingers splayed wide to hold
himself steady, but Ryosuke doesn’t protest, doesn’t even lift a hand from
Haruichi’s hips. Ryosuke’s breathing harder, Haruichi realizes distantly, his
inhales are catching into the gaps between Haruichi’s panting efforts; and the
thought of that overrides Haruichi’s own building tension, eclipses the strain
of orgasm forming low in him with every pull of Ryosuke’s cock inside him. He
wants to come, he thinks, he needs to come; but more than that he needs Ryosuke
to come, wants the feel of Ryosuke’s seed inside him and Ryosuke groaning
underneath him and the easing of that pressure that says he’s done his duty and
satisfied his alpha’s needs. Haruichi is moving faster in spite of himself, in
spite of the shake in his legs and the gasp of his breathing and the ache in
his cock, the strain begging for a hand against it, for the friction of
calluses, for the tug of a sharp-angled wrist. It doesn’t matter, nothing
matters except the way Ryosuke is swelling within him, the way that pressure is
building greater than before, tighter than before, locking them together until
Haruichi can barely move at all, until it’s more them shifting together than
anything else; and then Ryosuke gasps, and says, “Haruichi” in a tone of
almost-warning, and Haruichi’s back arches, his mouth falls open, and he comes
in a helpless surge of heat, his cock jerking to spill the few drops of come
left to him over the strain of Ryosuke’s stomach. He can feel the pleasure rush
out into him, can feel it grip at the top of his spine and jolt through all the
exhausted lines of his body; and he feel Ryosuke inside him, can feel the
pressure of the knot pinning them together and the jolt of Ryosuke’s cock, and
as Ryosuke groans Haruichi can feel the surge of the other coming, can feel the
wet heat pulsing into him to swell him full and heavy with his alpha’s seed.
Haruichi chokes for air, trying to fill his lungs when his body seems to have
forgotten how to do anything but tremble with too-much heat, with the sensation
sweeping out to consume him. From a long way away he can hear Ryosuke,
“Haruichi?” in a tone different than any he used before. Haruichi would like to
answer, would like to tell Ryosuke that’s he’s fine, that he just needs to
catch his breath; but he doesn’t have the breath, and he doesn’t have the
strength, and in the end all he can do is collapse forward to land heavily
against the span of Ryosuke’s chest. Ryosuke’s arms come around him, Ryosuke’s
fingers press up into his hair; and Haruichi shuts his eyes, and lets the heat
take him for a while.
They’ve shifted, when he comes back into himself. Ryosuke has turned them onto
their sides, so Haruichi’s weight is supported by the bed instead of crushing
the other down against the mattress; and the knot is easing, Haruichi can feel
the strain of it loosening even as he blinks his vision back to clarity. He’s
looking at the dip of Ryosuke’s shoulder, his attention landing and sticking
idly to that one point; and he’s still looking when Ryosuke’s hand tightens at
his hip, and Ryosuke grunts a low sound of effort and tugs to slide himself
free of Haruichi’s body. There’s a rush of wet across Haruichi’s thigh, some
part of Ryosuke’s come spilling out of him as the pressure of the knot holding
it within the other loosens; Haruichi blinks, feeling distant and dizzy, and as
Ryosuke pulls away he brings his legs in to press against each other, to hold
back some measure of the mess. It’s a futile effort; the sheets are already
past saving, soaked through with Haruichi’s fever-sweat and the sticky of his
own orgasms and the effort of their movement together, but it’s an instinctive
attempt, and one Haruichi isn’t focused enough to resist.
“Haruichi,” Ryosuke murmurs, his voice gentle, now, as it almost never is
except at times like this, when the proof of his dominance is humid in the air
and wet against Haruichi’s thighs. His hand comes up to settle at Haruichi’s
shoulder, his arm curls in around the other’s back; when he leans in closer
it’s to press his lips against Haruichi’s forehead, to print the warmth of a
kiss against the other’s skin. Haruichi shuts his eyes, letting the friction of
Ryosuke’s mouth against him purr through his body like a painless shiver of
electricity, and Ryosuke doesn’t pull away, just tightens his arm around the
other’s shoulders and lingers with his lips against Haruichi’s hair. “You can
relax. I’ll take care of you from here.”
Haruichi breathes out and lifts his hand from the support of the bed to touch
at Ryosuke’s hip, to ground himself against the sweat-cool of the other’s skin.
It feels good against his palm, feels good to slide his fingers in and against
the curve of the other’s hip. When he takes a breath it’s carefully, delicate
so he can fit the air against the inside of his lungs with intentional care.
“Aniki?”
Ryosuke’s fingers spread over Haruichi’s shoulder, his hand slides down in a
caress over the other’s skin. “What is it?”
Haruichi tightens his grip on Ryosuke’s hip and ducks his head to press in
closer towards the other’s shoulder. “Did I do well?”
It’s an obvious question, an overt plea for reassurance that Ryosuke would
laugh at, normally, would answer with a smirk and a taunt before turning aside
without even watching the hurt of rejection break over Haruichi’s features. But
here, now, with the air heavy with their shared heat and satisfaction in every
slack line of their bodies: Ryosuke strokes Haruichi’s shoulder, and leans in,
and presses a kiss against Haruichi’s forehead.
“Yes,” he says, and there’s nothing but sincerity on his tone, nothing but
truth under the word. “You did well, Haruichi.”
Haruichi sighs relief, trembling with the force of it in spite of himself; and
then he lifts his head, and parts his lips, and he doesn’t have to ask before
Ryosuke is ducking in to catch the unspoken words against Haruichi’s tongue
with the weight of his mouth.
Nothing tastes as sweet to Haruichi as praise from Ryosuke’s lips.
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