Chapter Text
On Tuesday night, Mikey calls an emergency meeting.
The tang of lemons doesn’t waft as much as suffocates the room along with Kazutora, who’s wrapped in a massive blanket and fuzzy socks. Chifuyu glances up, mildly alarmed; that’s heat-scent, and not early on either. He smells like dehydration levels of orgasms.
Baji tilts his head to eye Kazutora. “Bro, get out of here. You stink.”
Kazutora flips him off. Baji rolls over. “I’m serious. Nobody wants that, you’re distracting.” He pelts a couch cushion in Kazutora’s direction.
“Knock it off,” Mitsuya intercepts the cushion. “You think nobody knows you’re in pre-rut, Baji? Smell like a whorehouse.”
“I don’t even want to be here, dude.” Kazutora sinks gingerly into an armchair. “Mikey called the damn emergency meeting.”
“I do not smell like a whorehouse,” Baji mutters, but gets up and moves to a different corner of the room.
Chifuyu tries not to be obvious about scenting the air when Baji walks by him. Baji smells like pine and cedar; something thicker underneath. Woodsmoke. He smells fucking amazing. Chifuyu’s brain wanders: would the scent get even stronger when Baji’s rut fully hit? How did Baji handle his ruts? Would he find an omega, someone soft and pliant and sweet? Would he pin them and scent them rough, needlepoint canines grazing their swollen scent glands, holding them down with muscular arms -
Mikey whistles shrilly through two fingers. “Sorry to interrupt your Tuesday activities,” he says, not sounding sorry in the least. Chifuyu shifts uncomfortably in his seat and avoids Takemichi’s knowing eyes on him.“But I’ve been informed that Pike is planning a rager on Saturday, and I am not letting those fucks steal the spotlight on the anniversary of our founding.”
“Especially not right after we put in our bids for fall pledges,” adds Draken.
Mikey points at Kazutora. “So that means you - ” Another finger at Baji - “And you need to have your heat and rut over by then.”
“It would’ve been over by now if somebody helped out,” Kazutora complains. “I don’t have a disease.”
Chifuyu’s heart jumps. Baji hadn’t been spending Kazutora’s heat with him after all?
“You treat alphas like we’re the damn Energizer Bunny. You can’t just put new batteries in and shake a few times.” Draken throws a straw wrapper at Kazutora’s head. It lands on his blanket and he makes no move to blow it away.
“Sorry, babes.” Sanzu clicks his tongue. “Try someone from AEPi next time. I can arrange something with South, if you want?” He pulls out a planner from his back pocket. “I know we have opinions about Pike but consider the Haitanis - ”
“Vouch, unfortunately,” says Angry.
“ - it’s an experience. You don’t even have to pick one, you can have both at the same - ”
“I am not to be passed around,” Kazutora says, haughty. Ryusei muffles a laugh.
“NOBODY is fucking anybody from Pike,” Mikey interrupts loudly. “This is WAR. We’re throwing Saturday night and it WILL be legendary. Now.” He cocks his head at Sanzu, who turns to a fresh page on his planner. “Themes, go.”
“Hawaiian?” Hakkai suggests.
Mikey waves him off imperiously. “We are not accepting ideas for parties that could also happen at a retirement home, next.”
“Cuff and chug,” Baji slams his fist down on the couch. “Can’t go wrong.”
“That one’s sexy,” Mikey muses. Chifuyu’s brain whites out a little, imagining being handcuffed to Baji the whole night. Baji tipping drinks down his throat. The heat of their wrists, rubbing through slivers of metal. The scent -
“Too many people lost their keys last time.” Draken points out. Chifuyu scowls at him. Jesus, let some of us get laid.
“Decades?”
“Nobody wants to see your Danny Zuko cosplay, Pey-yan.”
“EDM rave?”
“That’s so… unoriginal, Ryu. Aren’t you a creative writing major?”
“Journalism,” Ryusei says, offended.
“The Olympics,” Mitsuya leans forward on his elbows. “Competition, team spirit, drinking games. Yes, Pah, put your hand down, girls might show up wearing flags as tops.”
Pah-chin punches the air. Mikey hums approvingly. “That’s it. We’ll do a double elimination bracket of like, 12 countries and assign them at the door.”
“Start letting people in at 7,” Sanzu says out loud, scribbling in his planner. “Games at 8. I assume we’re trying to steal girls and omegas from Pike’s thing - I’ll talk to Senju and lock Chi O in.”
“Tri Delta might be a little tough,” Hakkai frowns. “Yuzuha doesn’t like to pick sides, and SAE is neutral territory between us and Pike, so she won’t commit unless Taiju does.”
“I’ll get SAE on board,” Draken stretches and yawns. “Inui owes me.”
“I think DG’s in,” Takemichi says, looking up from his phone. “I just texted Hina.”
“Good work, boys,” Mikey beams. “Sanzu, divide up tasks when you’re done outlining, meeting adjourned. Kenchin, foosball?”
“This could have been a group text.” Kazutora hauls himself to his feet and staggers up the stairs. Baji pulls the ties of his hoodie over his nose as Kazutora passes.
Chifuyu stands up, but Sanzu tsks at him. “You’re on cleaning duty,” he says. “And don’t forget to steam the beanbag you’re sitting on. Pretty sure Draken and Mikey fucked on it last weekend.”
“Thanks for letting me know before the meeting,” Chifuyu sighs, resigned. “Why am I on cleaning duty?”
“Because the new pledges haven’t accepted their bids and gotten initiated yet, so you’re still the lowest on the totem pole.” Sanzu sashays out of the room, glancing over his shoulder. “Get Takemichi to help.”
Chifuyu spends most of Wednesday afternoon cleaning the house because Takemichi is let off the hook on accounts of securing a whole sorority for the party. The counters are scrubbed, the floors mopped, and the beanbag steamed (with minimal thoughts of Mikey getting railed in it). Chifuyu steams the adjacent couches, for good measure.
Takemichi gets back from his shift a few hours later bearing Cinnabon and Chinese takeout like the thoughtful angel baby he is, so it’s hard for Chifuyu to stay mad at him. There’s also nothing like 1200 calories of icing and grease to settle the stomach of an omega in heat, so after he’s selfishly picked out all the crab rangoons, Chifuyu brings food to Kazutora's room.
He knocks gently. There’s no response, but Chifuyu knows Kazutora’s in there because that lemon-scent seeps through the crack under the door. Chifuyu tries the knob; it’s unlocked, so he lets himself inside. The room is pitch black and smells thick, like a summer orchard, sharp and concentrated and zesty.
“Thanks,” Kazutora says, muted, from somewhere in the dark. Chifuyu feels his way through the room until he can set the takeout on the desk. Then Kazutora groans, and it doesn’t sound like a satisfied kind of groan.
Chifuyu flicks on a lamp. Kazutora’s curled up in his blanket nest, cheeks pink, the hair near his temples sticking to his face. He looks exhausted - actually worn out and strung tight, and not from orgasms.
Chifuyu hovers at the doorframe. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Kazutora doesn’t open his eyes and curls into an even smaller ball. “You know how it is.”
“I know Hanma is off the table…” Chifuyu shifts from one foot to another awkwardly. “But there’s got to be another alpha who’ll help you out.”
Kazutora cracks one eye open. “Like who?”
“Like, um, Baji?”
Kazutora barks out a laugh, his voice cracking. “Baji,” he repeats, incredulous. “I have standards , holy shit, I’d rather - wait, you think Baji smells good?”
“Yes?”
“BAJI?”
Chifuyu feels a little silly and embarrassed. “What is wrong with you two,” he says defensively. “Baji reminds me of like, a bonfire in the forest. It’s nice.”
“A bonfire in the - ” Kazutora, still snickering, looks like he’s on the verge of saying something else, but decides against it. “I mean, okay. Different goals for different holes, or whatever.”
His face twists suddenly as a cramp works its way through his body. A sympathetic pang twinges through Chifuyu’s gut, and he shuffles closer. “Do you want me to scent you?”
Kazutora arches one eyebrow at him. “No offense, but you couldn’t pretend to be an alpha if you tried.”
Chifuyu kicks off his shoes. “Funny, but not like that. Scenting another omega just always helps, you know, to calm me down.”
Kazutora doesn’t look convinced. Chifuyu puts a hand on his bed. “If you hate it, I’ll leave.” This gets him a suspicious side-eye, but Kazutora moves enough that Chifuyu can climb into his nest and settle against his side. Chifuyu pets Kazutora’s thigh reassuringly. “Okay?”
Kazutora nods. Chifuyu bares his neck encouragingly, and Kazutora slowly presses his face into the space between Chifuyu’s collarbones and jaw. He takes a big deep breath, then exhales. Then he does it again, dropping into long, slow inhales. Chifuyu holds still, eyelids fluttering shut. He hasn’t had a heat in a while, so he forgets just how much it can be. Kazutora’s is extra intense.
“You really do have bad heats, don’t you?” he soothes, keeping a hand on Kazutora’s leg.
“Mmhmm,” Kazutora says, quiet, muffled against his skin. “You’re…minty.” He nuzzles closer, fingers curled in Chifuyu’s shirt, the warmth of his nose ticklish. His mouth opens against Chifuyu’s scent gland almost subconsciously, his teeth grazing the spot, and Chifuyu pulls back, blushing.
“ Ah ,” he squeaks. “No teeth. Not - no biting.”
Kazutora’s eyes are unfocused. “Sorry.” He noses back into Chifuyu’s neck. The tension is draining from his body, and Chifuyu rests his cheek against the top of Kazutora’s head. “I can’t believe nobody’s ever done this for you.”
“‘s easier to just fuck me,” Kazutora mumbles. A strand of hair falls over his shoulders, revealing his own scent gland. Chifuyu’s eyes widen; there’s the faintest of scarring in the shape of incisors. Multiple pairs of incisors.
A rush of protectiveness washes over him. “You can come to me next time,” Chifuyu says, lacing his fingers through Kazutora’s. “Fuck Hanma, and fuck Baji. Not literally!” God. “Not literally. Obviously.”
Fortunately, Kazutora looks too scent-doped to have heard any of that. He tucks his chin into Chifuyu’s neck and falls asleep.
Chifuyu wakes up in Kazutora’s bed, which is disorienting enough. Then Kazutora appears from the in-suite bathroom naked, and Chifuyu clutches the sheets to his chin like he’s the one without clothes on.
“Hi,” Kazutora says around his toothbrush. “Thanks for yesterday. My heat’s over.”
Chifuyu blinks. “That quickly?”
“Yeah, I guess your omega scenting thing worked.” Kazutora wanders across his room to the closet and stands there, one hip cocked, hair dripping into a puddle. Chifuyu decides that there are worse situations to be in and slides out of bed. “What time is it?”
“10.”
“AM?” Chifuyu scrambles for his phone. “Fuck, I have class!” In the daylight, Kazutora’s desk is covered in an assortment of clothes, jewelry, books, and - sex toys, which Chifuyu knows makes sense given the entire heat thing, but doesn’t make it any less gross when he finally locates his phone with a dildo suction-cupped to it. Chifuyu wipes the screen with the hem of his shirt and checks his texts, most of which are from Takemichi.
takemichi
(9:15) – can i borrow your car? hina doesn’t have clinicals today we wanna get bagels <3
(9:18) – pls?
(9:20) – are you still with kazutora???
(9:21) – i’m taking your car don’t be mad i’ll bring bagels so you have them after class ok thank youuu
Kazutora yawns from behind him. “Want a ride?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I know the campus shuttle sucks.” Kazutora pulls on a leopard-print bathrobe and swipes his keys off the desk. “C’mon.”
Chifuyu hurries after him out onto the street, where his metallic gold Lamborghini Aventador is parked haphazardly on the curb. Kazutora and that car hold the record for the most parking tickets accumulated over the course of one college career. If Chifuyu had an Aventador he would probably keep fewer coffee cup lids on the floor, but that’s just him.
Kazutora pushes his hair out of his face with a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses. “Where do you need to be?”
“Smithson.” Chifuyu clutches his backpack to his chest as the engine revs to life, and what sounds like an entire library crashes to the floor in the backseat. He scrambles to put his seatbelt on, as though that will save him from getting violently T-boned in front of a McDonald’s.
Kazutora drives like he has good health insurance, which he probably does. He runs every light between the Sigma Chi house and Smithson Hall, drifting carelessly to a stop in front of the building and lowering his sunglasses with the poise of a 50s starlet.
“See you later, darling.”
“Um, okay, thanks.” Chifuyu vaults out of the car and takes the stairs two at a time, skidding up to the 4th floor. He makes it to the classroom right at 10:15, scooting into his usual seat next to Ryusei with a huff.
Ryusei’s nose twitches, not subtly. Chifuyu rolls his eyes. “Don’t start.”
“Different,” is all Ryusei remarks.
“Someone had fun last night,” says a voice from behind them. Chifuyu glowers at Kisaki, who examines a manicured nail. Before he can say anything, the Smartboard flickers on and their professor launches into the lecture. They’re doing a unit on romanticism, which Chifuyu, as an avid purveyor of shoujo manga, has a vested interest in. Rest in peace, Lord Byron, you would’ve loved Cardcaptor Sakura.
Chifuyu is scribbling notes on The Lady of Shalott when something catches his eye. Someone is peering through the window of the lecture hall’s double doors, going up on their tiptoes, scanning the room -
It’s - Baji? Why is Baji outside his -
“Mr. Matsuno,” the professor calls. “Can you give us an example of a poem that demonstrates the idea of communion with nature?”
“I, um.” Baji is waving at him through the window. Chifuyu gives the slightest shake of his head. Baji curls the fingers of one hand like he’s going to tap on the door. Chifuyu sucks in a breath.
“Mr. Matsuno?”
“Yeah, I - nature? Flora. Fauna.” Baji gestures wildly. Kisaki notices and scoffs, which makes half the class swivel to look at the door. Chifuyu needs to get out of there.
Ryusei gives him a Look and saves him. “ La Belle Dame sans Merci’s love interest symbolizes an aspect of nature that is beautiful, almost unbearably so.” Chifuyu slides out of his seat gratefully and books it across the lecture hall. The professor’s disapproving gaze follows him out the door, but Keats can wait, because Baji is beaming at him like the world’s most handsome idiot.
“What are you doing here, Baji, oh my god.”
Baji’s grin could power a small country for a week. “Ryusei told me you guys have class together.” He’s practically vibrating, his voice a low rumble, warmth emanating from him in palpable waves.
Chifuyu notices then that Baji’s eyes are brighter than usual, his color high. “You,” he says, before he can stop himself. “Oh.”
Baji scratches the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, I know, I gotta get back to my room. I just wanted to let you know I passed.”
Chifuyu’s eyes widen. “Your Bio test? That was today?”
“I got done 5 minutes ago,” Baji says. “90%. Never scored that high in my life.”
“Holy shit,” Chifuyu exclaims. “You did it! 90%, that’s insane.” He feels giddy, hot, seized by the desire to grab Baji and tell him how proud he is, and he knows it’s because Baji’s pumping out enough pheromones to drown a horse right now, but -
With the self-control of a Victorian chantry sister, he shuffles until they’re not as close. “Why didn’t you just text me?”
Baji shrugs. “I wanted to tell you in person,” he says, like the straightforwardness of that statement doesn’t make Chifuyu immediately want to burst into flames.
“Oh.” Chifuyu fidgets with his fingers. He wants to congratulate, to touch, to bury his nose in Baji’s chest. Baji really should not be allowed to walk around in public right now. “I’m really happy for you.” He looks up at Baji through his lashes and can pinpoint the second Baji’s pupils dilate and he’s moving, tugging Chifuyu towards him into a hug so tight, Chifuyu’s feet lift off the floor.
Chifuyu’s entire body lights up - alpha , so much alpha it’s blinding, the smell of a bonfire in the forest - fuck you, Kazutora - filling his nose, making him gasp, go weak. The start of a purr spills from his throat, unbidden, and Baji feels it, reacts to it, turning so his mouth is in the crook of Chifuyu’s neck. Chifuyu’s hands come up but he can’t move in Baji’s grasp, so all he can do is clutch at Baji’s elbows and try not to bare his neck and whimper in the middle of a school building -
“Sorry,” Baji says, slightly breathless. He sets Chifuyu down, which is impressive given that Chifuyu has no sensation in his legs. “Sorry, fuck.” He hasn’t let go. They’re still so close, the tips of their noses could brush.
“It’s fine,” croaks Chifuyu.
Baji finally takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m going, I just wanted to say thank you again.” His eyes are the color of embers. Chifuyu likes him so much and he can’t even blame it all on pheromones.
“You’re welcome,” he manages. “Anytime.”
Baji starts walking backwards. “I’ll see you at the rager in a few days?”
“Yeah.”
“Can’t wait.” Baji’s eyes crinkle in one last grin, and he disappears around the corner. Chifuyu stares after him. The smell of smoky cedar lingers in the air and now, on him. He’s not going to sniff the collar of his shirt. He’s not -
His phone blips.
ryusei
(11:07) – i’m thinking that was less william wordsworth, more pablo neruda.
(11:07) – as in, the i want to do to you what spring does to the cherry trees variety of neruda.
(11:08) – everyone saw you two, by the way.
mikey
(6:01) – smiley where
(6:01) – it’s starting in literally 1 hour and we’re missing the juice
smiley
(6:15) – oh, i got the juice. 👹
angry
(6:16) – don’t ask what’s in it
draken
(6:18) – you know the drill. no illegal substances
smiley
(6:18) – hm
(6:18) – hmmmmm
(6:19) – yeah we’re good
sanzu
(6:22) – does any1 remember the last time smiley made juice lol
mitsuya
(6:22) – don’t.
sanzu
(6:23) – all im saying. is that some of us could use more illegal substances. to get in touch with our ~secret desires ☺️
ryusei
(6:24) – or not so secret
hakkai
(6:25) – what are you talking about??
mitsuya
(6:26) – i know where you sleep.
hakkai
(6:26) – sanzu what does that mean?
(6:27) – hello
(6:28) – taka-chan??
(6:28) – guys
pah
(6:30) – can someone let me in i left my keys at subway
smiley
(6:34) – how’d you get back then
pah
(6:35) – got a ride
smiley
(6:35) – from who?
smiley
(6:40) – ????
mikey
(6:41) – who wants to explain why the haitanis are outside.
Whatever Smiley put in his jungle juice is enough to kill a Victorian child, because it’s 8:10 on Friday night and Chifuyu is already blacked out drunk on the bathroom floor.
Peke J sticks his head around the door and chirps.
“Peke,” Chifuyu says mournfully. The cat stares at him where he’s lying flat on his back. This cat holds the secrets to the universe and is refusing to reveal them. Chifuyu will get to the bottom of this.
Takemichi finds him gawking at the ceiling some hundred years (5 minutes) later. “You need to rally,” he says solemnly. “Bulgaria is already losing and Mikey’s pissed that he’s down a teammate.”
“I’m not Bulgarian,” Chifuyu mumbles. “I’m Japanese.”
“You’re Bulgarian tonight,” Takemichi says long-sufferingly. “C’mon. Up.”
Hina materializes next to Takemichi holding a sealed bag of bright yellow liquid. “Sit him up,” she instructs Takemichi, who drags Chifuyu into a vaguely seated position against the sink. She cups Chifuyu’s face between her palms. “This is a banana bag. I’m gonna hook it up and I’ll take it out in 30 minutes.”
“How did you get that?” Takemichi asks, sounding in awe.
“DG is 70% nursing students.” Hina winks. She smells sooooo soft and clear, like roses in water. Chifuyu loses his balance again, and Hina grabs his shoulder without looking away from where she’s starting an IV.
Takemichi pales. Chifuyu attempts to focus on the needle for about ten seconds before letting his head loll back on the sink with a thunk. So much effort.
“All done,” Hina tucks a strand of bubblegum-pink hair behind her ear, snapping off her gloves. “Michi, text me if he tugs it out, okay?”
“Got it.” Takemichi salutes her, and Hina blows him a kiss on her way out, and he blows one back like the disgusting pair of high school sweethearts they are.
“God, I see what you’ve done for others,” Chifuyu complains. Peke J winds his tail around his ankles in solidarity.
Takemichi joins him on the bathroom floor and says something like, “This could be you but you playing,” which is so astoundingly rude that Chifuyu kicks a shin out at him, misses, and nearly knocks himself out on the sink.
“Stop,” Takemichi says.
“No,” Chifuyu retorts.
“Please.”
“Make me.”
Takemichi has the nerve to laugh at him. “Absolutely not.” He pats his thigh. “C’mon.”
Chifuyu crawls over and lies down obligingly. “Only because Peke J said so.”
“Time’s up,” Takemichi announces, not-so-gently flicking Chifuyu on the forehead.
Chifuyu opens his eyes blearily. Hina is back, un-taping the IV and pulling out the cannula smoothly. “Hold this,” she places Chifuyu’s other hand firmly on a cotton ball pressed against his forearm, “For just a couple minutes. Mikey’s out for blood.”
“Shit.” Chifuyu winces. “Is Bulgaria losing?”
“No, but the Philippines are two points under you guys, and if Izana wins…” Hina draws a finger across her neck. Takemichi helps Chifuyu up, and Chifuyu splashes water on his face, shaking droplets out of his hair. Hina clears her throat. “You’re welcome.”
“I owe you my life,” Chifuyu says seriously. “You guys coming?”
Takemichi’s arms snake around Hina’s waist, hands splaying over her hips. Hina snickers. “In a bit,” she says. “Mommy and daddy are busy.”
“Wow, gross, goodbye.” Chifuyu makes his way downstairs. The party is in full swing, and a quick look at the makeshift scoreboard tacked over the foyer shows that Bulgaria - made up of Mikey, Draken, Senju, Wakasa, and Chifuyu - currently sits at #1, over the Philippines, comprising Izana, Kakucho, Ryusei, Rindou, and Yuzuha. The final is a game of Rage Cage, which Chifuyu has historically been unreasonably good at. What can he say? He has great reflexes.
Chifuyu detours by the kitchen for water. It’s empty save for Mitsuya, who’s sitting on the counter nursing a Miller Lite. Hakkai’s draped between his legs, talking intensely to Mitsuya’s mouth.
“I’m just saying,” he slurs, “It’s rude that I watch all the TikToks you send me but you never watch any of the TikToks I send you.”
“It’s because you’re always years behind the memes,” Mitsuya says fondly. “I was tired of seeing doge in like, middle school.” He smiles at Chifuyu over Hakkai’s shoulder. “Hina doesn’t happen to have another banana bag?”
Chifuyu cracks a bottle of water. “What’s he on?”
Mitsuya pries Hakkai’s mostly-empty solo cup out of his hand. “Four, which is four more than the limit for a regular human being.” Hakkai rests his head on Mitsuya’s chest, which looks comical because Hakkai is 6’4 and even the extra counter height doesn’t make Mitsuya taller. On cue, Hakkai shows Chifuyu three fingers proudly. “Four juices.”
“So many,” Chifuyu deadpans.
“Motherfucker,” Mikey breezes into the kitchen. “Are you done with your nap? Yeah? Get out there.”
“Sorry.” Chifuyu lets himself be herded to the rec room, where a crowd gathers around the ping-pong table. Senju, pastel-pink hair in two buns on top of her head, scoots over to make room for Chifuyu.
“1 point off your country’s total every time you have to chug,” Mikey says. “There’s tequila in the cups because we don’t pussy out on anything. 3 points if you’re the last cup. We clear?”
“Let’s fucking go.” Draken flips Rindou off with both hands. “Suck my dick, Pike.”
“Mikey’s got that covered,” Rindou fires back. The crowd oohs, but all Mikey does is grin widely, with teeth.
Yuzuha rolls her eyes. “Don’t lump me in with Pike.” She raises her cup to Ryusei, who lifts his in acknowledgement. “Three, two, one - ”
The game starts, and Chifuyu snaps to focus. He follows the two ping-pong balls as they blitz around the table; these are professionals at work here, so it’s a good minute before anyone even needs more than one try to sink a shot. Senju trips first, biting off a quick “sorry” before passing the cup to Chifuyu. He bounces his shot without a hitch, giving Draken the opening to lap Ryusei in return. Ryusei downs his cup graciously, taking revenge by catching up to Wakasa three turns around the table later.
Chifuyu does his part, but Kakucho doesn’t miss a single shot, and by the time there are only three cups left, he’s drunk enough to have his body pleasantly buzzing again. Izana shoves his cup at Rindou, who - miraculously - misses his first attempt. Then his second. Then his third.
“Rindou,” Ran warns from the sidelines. Rindou flushes. Misses again.
The other cup circles around and lands in front of Mikey. Izana inhales keenly; he’s the only thing between Mikey and Rindou, and if Mikey makes this first try, it’s over.
Mikey yawns. Makes a big show checking an imaginary watch on his wrist.
Draken breaks into a laugh. “Stop playing with your food, baby,” he moves so he’s behind Mikey, hooking his chin over Mikey’s shoulder. “End it.”
Mikey twists and jumps into Draken’s arms, Draken palming his ass. “Only for you,” he coos. Trick-shots his ball effortlessly behind him. Not even looking.
It sinks in with a clear, decisive clink, and the room erupts into cheers and whoops.
Mikey grabs the last cup, full with some unholy mixture of liquor and beer, and sets it in front of Rindou. He leans in sweetly. “Maybe you wouldn’t have lost if someone sucked your dick every now and then.” He taps the cup. “Drink up, bitch.”
Rindou snatches the cup, furious. It bends in his grip, liquid sloshing dangerously, and Chifuyu wonders if this is about to become some shit.
The music volume hikes up considerably. Chifuyu can tell that Sanzu has hijacked Mitsuya’s playlist because the song choice is considerably sluttier.
“It’s BAD BUNNY!!!!” Sanzu shrieks on cue, barreling into the Rage Cage circle. “You have to shake ass to Bad Bunny. Those are the rules.”
“Fuck yes,” Mikey shouts. He climbs on the ping-pong table, Sanzu gets on the other side, and the Rage Cage tournament is swiftly forgotten. Chifuyu has a policy of not dancing on objects that aren’t meant to be danced on (especially since it wasn’t his fault that the ping-pong table folded with him in it last time) and ducks away.
He’s about to risk walking in on unspoken horrors in order to drag Takemichi back to the party when he hears a familiar voice. Like a magnet, he follows it to the living room.
Baji’s challenging Mochizuki to a shotgun contest. Chifuyu watches him crack the bottom of a PBR with his teeth and down it; a stream of beer runs down his throat, long and pale, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. He beats Mochizuki by a mile and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking.
To his absolute dismay, Chifuyu feels himself get wet. The banana bag got him sober enough to have all his motor functions, but the King’s Cup shots have him drunk enough to be horny. Really horny.
It’s like Baji notices, or something, but there’s no way he can distinguish Chifuyu from everybody else in the room, except he does, because that sharp gaze zeroes in on him. Chifuyu goes still, pinned in place; Baji runs his tongue over one sharp canine and smiles. It’s cataclysmic.
Chifuyu blinks, and Baji is in front of him.
“Heard you won,” Baji says. “Fuck Pike!”
“Fuck Pike,” Chifuyu echoes. “What have you been doing all night?”
“Well, Mexico lost pretty early on, so I started challenging losers to beat me at shotgunning.” He cracks his neck. “Undefeated.”
A slow remix of The Weeknd’s “You Were Never Here” fades in over the speakers, the syrupy bassline a morphine drip sending goosebumps down Chifuyu’s arms.
His pulse rushes in his ears. He feels bold, daring, aroused. Chifuyu takes a step towards Baji, hyperaware of Baji’s eyes on him.
Another step. He could reach out and touch if he wanted.
One more step.
“Come here,” Baji murmurs, and pulls Chifuyu close to his body. He smells wild - he’s out of rut, but just barely; the scent clouds Chifuyu’s head immediately, making him even - fuck, he’s practically dripping, can’t Baji tell? He wants Baji to know, to smell how wet he is for an alpha -
He lifts his head, meeting Baji’s eyes: molten gold and so, so dark.
Baji turns him around easily, hands dropping to his hips. Grinds forward, fingertips sliding under the waistband of Chifuyu’s jeans, pressing hot on bare, smooth skin. Chifuyu gasps, one arm winding around the back of Baji’s neck, the other trailing across his own chest mindlessly; he wants to be touched so bad, wants more, wants to get wrecked. His hips stutter as he grinds back, and he hears a sharp intake of breath, Baji’s hands tightening.
“You teasing, Chifuyu?” He says against the shell of Chifuyu’s ear.
Chifuyu moans and makes it slutty for Baji.
One of Baji’s hands leaves his hips, sliding further up his body, the nape of his neck, before finding purchase in his hair and yanking. Chifuyu lets out a cry swallowed by the music, arching desperately into Baji’s body, and he feels it now - Baji’s hard against him, that’s his dick - Chifuyu whines and presses back - it’s big , it has to be -
The music volume fizzles out suddenly. Chifuyu freezes like a deer in the headlights, but Baji doesn’t release him. He makes a low noise that’s - almost a growl, unhappy with the interruption. His warm hands are grounding on Chifuyu.
“Out of the kindness of our hearts,” Ran says in the silence, shittily. “We thought you should know that the cops are on their way.”
A collective groan ripples through the room. It’s not the first time that the police have conveniently dropped by a party, and they have a rotating system so no one brother has to eat all the tickets, but it’s a fucking pain.
Mitsuya dashes into the living room, Hakkai stumbling at his side. “Get anyone under 21 downstairs, Kazutora, this is not a drill.” Kazutora, who’s lurking by the stairs, gives him an eyeroll and puts his joint out on one of the steps.
The beam of a flashlight sweeps across the foyer through the windows. A few seconds later, the silhouette of a cop appears at the front door.
“Paul Blart?” Hakkai asks woozily.
Mitsuya thrusts him towards Kazutora. “Please take him downstairs with you.”
“Let’s move,” Baji says, fingers closing around Chifuyu’s wrist, drawing a shiver through his body. “Before Mitsuya makes that our business.”
They push their way upstairs, past the crowd heading in the opposite direction. Baji shoves him into a bathroom, feels around until he finds the light, and locks the door behind them.
There is a long pause.
“Can I,” Chifuyu says eloquently. Then his body wins the duel with his brain over common sense, and he drops to his knees.
This is - a thing people do, Chifuyu thinks, in a wild moment of clarity. Suck off their fraternity brothers. Their alpha fraternity brothers. Friends with benefits, right? Bros over hoes is definitely about situations like this. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said anything. He’s not even in heat, he doesn’t have an excuse -
Baji undoes his belt.
Chifuyu licks his lips.
He doesn’t know how Baji’s so casual about this whole thing. He’s got his hands in his pockets, leaned up against the bathroom counter like there aren’t literally police downstairs looking to bust a dubiously underage rager. More importantly, like Chifuyu didn’t just offer to suck him off and he didn’t just get right to it.
“Give Me Everything” starts thumping in the background, and somehow, stupidly, that pushes Chifuyu over the edge.
He unbuttons Baji’s jeans with shaky hands, tugs the zipper down. Baji’s dick looks massive even outlined in his boxer-briefs, and Chifuyu squirms, wanting; he always knew Baji was hung, but it’s right in front of him and almost too much to imagine swallowing into his mouth (or other places), and Baji takes a look at him, slides one hand into his undercut and guides him firmly towards his dick.
Chifuyu’s brain sings, oh god yes, and vacates the premises entirely.
He mouths at the bulge, dry laps of his tongue, Baji’s musk in his nose. He gets Baji’s boxer-briefs down and the sight of his dick - shiny at the tip and definitely too big to fit anywhere - spills a gush of slick into his underwear.
Chifuyu licks shyly over the head, tonguing the sensitive underside, opening his mouth to take the first couple of inches. He hums at the feel of Baji’s cock rubbing along the roof of his mouth and concentrates on breathing instead of shoving his entire face forward, like he wants to.
“Yeah,” Baji whispers, running a thumb over where the outline of his cock is visible in Chifuyu’s mouth and Chifuyu’s eyelashes flutter. He laves a few times over Baji’s cock before pushing deeper, hollowing his cheeks; he’s never had anyone so big they could choke him, but Baji could. That’s what he wants.
He shifts and tries to relax and Baji pushes, soft but unrelenting, until all of him sinks into Chifuyu’s throat. Oh, that’s good. Chifuyu’s brain is foggy from alcohol and he is unbelievably into the entire thing. He fists the base of Baji’s cock and pulls off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. God, Baji has a nice dick.
Chifuyu doesn’t know how he ended up sucking dick while Pitbull blasts downstairs. He swallows Baji’s cock again and thinks Baji might be fucking his mouth to the beat and feels a little insane. He closes his eyes, thoughts tangled, spots bursting behind his eyelids.
“Hey,” Baji stops short, the hand in Chifuyu’s hair sliding to his chin, forcing him to look up. “Don’t get distracted.”
Chifuyu stares at him. He can’t move. Baji’s grip is too tight, Baji’s cock too heavy on his tongue. Heat rushes through him so fast his vision blurs. His jaw is sore, and it’s so fucking hot. He jerks his head in a nod.
“Alright,” Baji says, a pleased rumble. “Keep going.” He fucks forward, and Chifuyu’s throat works around him, saliva filling his mouth. Baji brushes a finger over the corner of his lips, catching the drool there. “Good.”
Chifuyu burns, heady with praise that he didn’t even know he wanted, what the fuck. So he’s into that. He’s drunk and hard and palming his own dick makes him moan like a whore, and he likes that too. Making Baji feel good is getting him drenched, squeezing his thighs together and feeling them sticky and damp. He speeds up, sucking Baji off messily, letting Baji’s cock hit the back of his throat on each slide.
Baji doesn’t give him a warning when he comes, just grabs the back of Chifuyu’s head and fucks his face hard once, twice, before spilling hot into his mouth. Chifuyu chokes on the first spurt, and the sensation makes the heat coiled in his stomach so overwhelming that he comes, helpless to do anything with his mouth stuffed full. He comes from Baji shooting his load down his throat and Baji notices, groaning, “Oh, fuck,” pulsing on Chifuyu’s tongue.
Chifuyu doesn’t fight it, staying as still as he can through the aftershocks of his own orgasm, his legs quivering. His hole twitches, clenching on nothing, and Chifuyu knows he’s soaked through his boxers and his jeans.
Baji releases him. Chifuyu rocks back on his heels, chest slightly heaving. He tries to speak, but his voice is rough and scratchy and his brain turns right back into goo.
Then, an all-too-familiar “ WOOOOOOOO” starts up from outside the bathroom, followed by: “MEET ME AT THE HOTEL ROOM, MEET ME AT THE HOTEL ROOM.” Ryusei’s voice, muffled, shouts,“Where the fuck is Baji?”
Chifuyu looks at Baji. His zip is still undone. There’s an entirely conspicuous stain on the back of Chifuyu’s jeans. He feels rearranged. He opens his mouth again to say something, anything logical, but what comes out is -
“It’s ‘Hotel Room Service’.”
Baji stares at him.
“It’s ‘Hotel Room Service’,” Chifuyu repeats.
The gears click in Baji’s head. “But - ”
“Go,” Chifuyu flings open the door, and the music gets substantially louder. “They’ll know you’re missing.”
Baji catches his hand. “I don’t - ”
“ Go, ” Chifuyu insists, hysterically. Baji releases his hand, zips his fly, and lingers, uncertain, by the door before finally leaving.
Chifuyu almost slams the door, turns to sit on the closed toilet, remembers that the seat of his pants are soaked, and thumps his head on the mirror instead. Peke J’s head appears from the bathtub.
“Why.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Peke J replies.