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Not that Ryuusei gives a fuck about semantics, but it’s a misconception that he doesn’t possess a sense of control. He has one, it just works a little differently than it does for most people. He knows how to listen, and he knows how to wait—if the reward is within his line of sight, as long as it’s worth it, he can be motivated to do either.
Half an hour after the U-20 game ends, Itoshi Sae proves yet again that waiting pays off.
“Yo.” Ryuusei’s voice carries through the empty locker room as Sae approaches. He’s still in his uniform, his skin flushed like he’s been in the sun.
“You’re still here?” Sae says. He doesn’t look very happy about it.
Ryuusei flashes him a grin. “Still gotta get your number.”
Sae pauses a few feet away, looking annoyed and expectant until Ryuusei pushes up from the bench, allowing him access to the bag he’s been guarding. The first thing he reaches for is his water bottle. “I haven’t showered yet,” he says, before tilting his head back for a long drink.
Ryuusei braces his hand on the shelf above his head. “I’ll wait,” he says, taking Sae’s withering glare in stride. “Where’d you go after the game, anyway?”
Sae drags the back of his hand across his mouth. He doesn’t say Dealing with that useless idiot of a chairman. He doesn’t say Giving another pointless fucking interview. “None of your business,” comes the curt reply. Ryuusei watches him strip his jersey and shove it deep, deep down into his bag.
“Now I wanna know even more.”
“If you want the right to make demands,” Sae says, shedding his gloves, “you need to score when I tell you to.”
Ryuusei’s too distracted to react to his jab. There’s a scent in the air—one he recognizes. One that makes his blood boil. His eyes linger, transfixed, on the working muscles of Sae’s back; the forward curl of his spine as he pulls his compression shirt over his head.
According to public record, Sae’s a beta. Ryuusei hasn’t questioned this once since they’ve met. Sae’s not like Rin, who stinks up the field and couldn’t act like more of a repressed fucking loser if he tried. Sae doesn’t express scent at all. For Rin to douse him in pheromones like this—it’s unnatural, and not just because they’re brothers.
Ryuusei can’t help it. His body moves, pulled along by base curiosity. He follows it until he’s all but pressed against Sae from behind, trapping him against the bench. Sae freezes. It’s uncanny, the perfect stillness he takes on, like a prey animal sensing danger. In a voice that makes the back of Ryuusei’s scalp tingle, he says, “Get the fuck off of me.”
He says that, but he doesn’t try to put any distance between them. He flinches when Ryuusei’s nose skims his ear, but only a little. Even when Ryuusei lifts his other hand to box him in, Sae doesn’t move a muscle. Ryuusei can’t decide if it’s impressive or insulting. It makes him want to push his luck. It makes him want to press in closer and lick a stripe up the back of Sae’s neck.
“Rinrin scented you,” Ryuusei murmurs.
Sae’s shoulders rise a fraction. “Go spread your legs for him if you like it so much.”
Like isn’t the word. The bitterness of alpha pheromones is heavy on his tongue, in his nose, lighting up and drowning every receptor he has. It’s clear as day, the message here. What was really in Rin’s gaze out on the field; why he lost sight of the goal; why Sae smells like desperation and warning. In the end, it’s the most natural instinct in the world.
Ryuusei opens his mouth, ghosting his breath right up against Sae’s nape. “You’re an omega, ain’t you, Underlashes.”
Sae turns abruptly in the tight space he’s been allowed, guarding that vulnerable part of himself. His gaze is cold and opaque as ever, but the little crease between his eyebrows gives him away. Ryuusei stares back at him, breathless, taking him in anew. Beneath the corded muscle, Sae’s all soft lines, lean and compact in a way only the omega players at Blue Lock are. It seems so obvious now. It should have always been obvious.
“I’m totally right.”
“You’re rutting," Sae says. The crease deepens. “That’s annoying. Aren’t you on blockers?”
“Duh.” For athletes like Ryuusei, who are especially prone to accidents when their adrenaline is high, they’re completely nonnegotiable. He hasn’t had a rut cycle since he came to Blue Lock.
Sae’s face pinches. “So why aren’t they fucking working?”
“Why dontcha take a wild guess?” Ryuusei says. Sae smells like he belongs to Rin. Did Sae let him do this, or is Rin sulking somewhere with a black eye to go with his mortally wounded ego? Not that it matters. Intended or not, actions have consequences.
Sae grabs Ryuusei’s chin between his fingers, pulling his face down to peer into his eyes. His blunt nails cut into Ryuusei’s skin. “What would you do if someone walked in right now?”
“Kill ‘em,” Ryuusei says. If someone tried to pull Sae away from him, he would rip out their throat without a second thought. And if Sae tried to run, Ryuusei would chase him down. If he tried to run, Ryuusei could have him pinned and split open on his cock in a minute or less, because this isn’t soccer and Ryuusei is bigger and stronger than he is.
“Your dream would die too if you did that,” Sae says. He turns Ryuusei’s face, looking at him down his nose before letting his hand fall away. He seems to be turning something over in his head. “But you don’t have the brain cells left to care right now, do you? You’re just like my brother.”
“Oh yeah?” Ryuusei’s grin widens. His fingers twitch where they’re curled over the shelf. It feels like he’s showing all his teeth. “I don’t think we’re alike at all.”
“He drools more than you do,” Sae allows.
“Do you even know what I wanna do to you right now?”
Sae glances down at the erection straining Ryuusei’s track pants with a vague look of disgust. “It’s not like it has to be me, right? You’d screw anything with a hole.”
A vein pulses in Ryuusei’s temple. “Careful. The only hole around here right now is yours.”
When Sae lifts his eyes again, the condescension in his gaze borders on playful. His posture relaxes, as if Ryuusei’s arms on either side form a private alcove and not a cage. If he feels the pressure of instinct at all in this moment, it doesn’t stop his mouth.
“You think I should be scared? Of you, little demon?”
A shudder wracks Ryuusei’s body, half fury and half excitement—and when he comes back to himself, it’s with Sae’s throat under his palm. His fingers press into the side of that slim, pale column, twitching with the urge to tighten. He leans in, pushing his face close to Sae’s, holding his unflinching gaze even as it blur out of focus. “It’s like you’re asking for it,” Ryuusei says. “I really will fuck you, you know?”
Sae’s chin lifts. His breath is warm, puffing out in shallow exhales that fan across Ryuusei’s lips. Any closer and they’d slot together. Even like this, Ryuusei could lick inside his mouth. If Sae bit his tongue, he wouldn’t even mind.
“Let’s get it over with, then.”
Ryuusei feels the words under his fingers more than he hears them. He blinks and slowly draws back, loosening his grip. “Huh?”
“Try using your knothead brain to understand the situation that we’re in,” Sae says. “Blue Lock just made a name for itself. It’s going to make a lot of people very nervous if it gets out that your suppressants failed after a game. Bad press is one thing, but if you assault someone, you’ll never play in a major league again.”
“So?"
“So that would be a problem for me,” he says, like Ryuusei’s particularly dense. And maybe he is—it takes him a minute to really wrap his head around it. Sae doesn’t look like someone who’s just offered their body up for use, but there’s nothing else he could mean. It’s like something straight out of an AV. Or a really vivid wet dream.
“You’re saying you’re gonna let me—”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Sae says, pushing against his chest. “We’re doing this my way. Back up.” Ryuusei doesn’t budge. Sae’s eyes flick past his shoulder to the door. “I’m not an exhibitionist. Besides, I told you, I want to shower.”
Ryuusei has to wonder where Sae gets his confidence. He should be afraid of Ryuusei—of the increasingly violent desire he has to bury himself in the warm flesh of Sae’s body, whether it’s with his cock or his teeth. But what he catches in the air between them now is nothing as acrid as Rin’s scent, or dangerous as fear.
“You smell like slick,” Ryuusei informs him. “S’that cuz of me, or him?”
Even flushed, the look on Sae’s face could kill. He’s cute like that—so cute that Ryuusei doesn’t mind either way. He really wants to fuck him stupid. Grinning, he holds his hands up and takes a step back. With a seriousness that feels out of place, he says, “Don’t run.”
Sae’s expression turns inscrutable. “You don’t need to tell me that,” he says. And then he slips away from the bench. His stride is slow, but it still doesn’t sit right to watch his back get further and further away. Ryuusei keeps himself rooted until Sae’s far enough for the impulse itching under his skin to subside.
From the doorway, Sae looks over his shoulder, utterly unconcerned. “Are you coming or not?”
After a deep breath, Ryuusei follows him to the showers.
“Wait.”
Ryuusei’s hand—so close to sliding across the wet plane of Sae’s bare skin—falls again. His nails dig into his palm. He says, “You’re really pushin’ it.”
Sae ignores him, tilting his head back to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. For the past ten minutes, it’s been like this. Ryuusei’s not allowed to touch until he says so. He’s just supposed to stand to the side as Sae hogs the water and watch. It’s torture. It’s erotic, desirable torture, but it doesn’t make his dick hurt any less. He’s never been this hard for this long without touching himself, and definitely not when he’s rutting.
He doesn’t miss when Sae’s gaze slides over his hard cock, like he’s measuring with his eyes. It twitches under the attention. Ryuusei reaches to stroke himself, just to take the edge off, but Sae says, sternly, “No. Wait.”
That strums Ryuusei’s last thread of patience. If Sae wants to do his ridiculous shower routine before Ryuusei fucks him into oblivion, fine—he can deal with that. Grudgingly. But he doesn’t know what the fucking point is of not touching himself. Even so, he lowers his hand, and Sae continues to leisurely wash himself.
Towards the end, when Ryuusei watches Sae’s fingers disappear between his legs, knowing all the slick he’s been leaking is washing down the drain with the hot water, he very nearly loses it. “Wait,” Sae says without looking at him.
Ryuusei’s teeth grind together. His body tenses, caught between the urge to lunge and the desire to prove—something. To Sae. To himself. After another unbearable minute, Sae turns the water off. The squeak of the handle grates Ryuusei’s ears.
Sae pushes his wet hair out of his face and turns, fixing Ryuusei with a calculating look. He’s pretty sure that if Sae tells him to wait one more time, he’ll do something they’ll both regret.
But Sae says, “Okay.”
It happens so fast that Ryuusei doesn’t have time to rein in the force with which he slams Sae against the wall. The blood is rushing so loud in his ears that he barely hears Sae’s head crack against it, or the pained grunt that follows.
He can’t even wait long enough to push into Sae’s cunt. Ryuusei humps him mindlessly, his eyes screwed shut, his forehead pressed to the tile above Sae’s shoulder. Ryuuse’s entire world narrows to the fucking glorious relief of something warm and slippery against his cock. Maybe he knows he had it coming, or maybe he’s just dazed, but Sae doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t squirm, either. Just stays perfectly still, arms limp at his sides while Ryuusei gets himself off.
It doesn’t take long. Ryuusei lifts his head when he begins to shudder through it, watching the head of his cock push up between their bellies, cum spilling over and smearing between them as he rides it out.
“Fuck,” he groans, indulging in a few final pushes. His dick doesn’t soften, but his mind is clearer after that—enough to realize that Sae is still being uncharacteristically silent. But when Ryuusei draws back to see if he’s conscious, he finds Sae staring back at him like he’s a bug on the bottom of his shoe.
“Are you a fucking dog?” Sae says.
If anyone been acting like Ryuusei’s a dog, it’s Sae, and he knows it. Ryuusei has to admire the calculation it takes to push someone to the edge and keep them there. He’s sure now, under Sae’s pellucid gaze—so at odds with the aroused flush on his cheeks—that’s what Sae’s been doing from the start.
“You gonna get me a collar if I am?” Ryuusei says.
“Maybe you need one.”
“That’s kinky.”
Sae doesn’t say anything else. He simply turns his knee out, opening himself up. He looks. Bored. Expectant. Like he’s done this before, and just wants it to be over with.
That’s no fun. Sae can play all the fucked up Itoshi mind games he wants, but Ryuusei likes being predicted even less than he likes being blue-balled.
He takes advantage of Sae’s loosened posture, sliding his hand down the firm muscle of Sae’s thigh before hooking under his knee and lifting. Maybe he does it with more force than necessary—Sae wobbles, off-balance, and has to grab Ryuusei’s shoulders to steady himself.
That earns Ryuusei a nasty look, but he’s too focused on the mess he made on Sae’s stomach to give a damn. Instead of grabbing his cock, he reaches out to drag his fingers through it. Sae’s abs tense under his touch.
“What are you—”
“Stay just like that,” Ryuusei says. He smears his cum down Sae’s abdomen, through the trimmed thatch of hair above his pussy, dirtying what he’d just washed. Sae must realize what he means to do, because he grabs Ryuusei’s wrist so hard his knuckles turn white. Ryuusei looks up at his face again, and the clear distress on it makes his pulse pick up.
“Don’t,” Sae grits.
Even with the death grip on his wrist, Ryuusei doesn’t have to strain much to swipe his thumb over Sae’s clit. The surprised, wounded sound it forces from him—and the furious attempt at silence that follows—is going to be all Ryuusei thinks about the next time he jacks off.
“Relax,” Ryuusei says. “Feels good, right?”
Sae squirms as Ryuusei continues to rub his clit, but the only place he can go with one of his legs is crashing down to the tile, and he’s not stupid enough to do that. Before long, he stops trying to pry Ryusei’s hand away. He lays his arm over his face instead, shielding it, and it’s easy after that for Ryuusei to change the angle, to slide his fingers through the slick folds of Sae’s pussy and press against his hole. It pulses under his fingertips.
“You’re so hot.”
“Shut up,” Sae says from behind his arm. “Just put it in already.”
It’s not like it isn’t tempting—every cell in Ryuusei’s body is demanding exactly that. But he likes Sae’s helpless reactions. And there’s something innately satisfying about sliding his fingers into Sae’s wet cunt, pushing his cum up inside him as far as they’ll reach. It’s like Ryuusei’s marking him from the inside out.
Sae’s whole body jerks when Ryuusei’s palm brushes his clit. Ryuusei grinds against it more deliberately, curling his fingers forward until Sae makes a high, inelegant noise that goes straight to Ryuusei’s dick. He keeps it up until Sae is moving against his hand of his own accord, stubbornly reigning in his voice while every telling hitch of his breath is amplified by the shower acoustics.
It’s disappointing that he can’t see Sae’s expression, but because Sae can’t see him either, he has no time to intercept the kiss Ryuusei steals from him.
“Mmf—!”
Sae starts and pushes at him, turning his face away, but Ryuusei lets go of his leg to grab his jaw and pry it open, hooking his thumb over Sae’s bottom teeth. What follows that hardly qualifies as kissing. Ryuusei licks inside Sae’s mouth—at his incisors, up against his palate, the inside of his cheeks, swallowing Sae’s protests as he begins to pick up the pace.
Watching Sae fall apart is one thing. But when he cums—every tremble in the leg still hooked around Ryuusei’s hip, every clench of Sae’s cunt around his fingers; the slick pouring freely down his hand and forearm, so warm it gives him goosebumps—feeling it is an out of body experience. Ryuusei fucks him through it until Sae’s whines rattle his head and his nails dig in hard enough to draw blood.
Ryuusei draws back slowly, pulling his fingers out. He watches Sae’s arm lowers from his face. Then the world colors itself in blinding, fluorescent light.
Ryuusei reels from the impact, barely managing to catch himself before he eats the shower floor. Hunched over, as his vision comes back into focus, he watches brilliant red splatter the tile at his feet. His nose throbs, not quite bad enough to be broken. His mouth tastes like copper. “Ow,” he says, blinking.
It takes Ryuusei longer than it should to realize Sae decked him in the face. If it were any other person, for any other reason, there’s no way he’d be able to hold down the rage that understanding begins to pump through his veins—he’s beat the shit out of people for less; has no qualms with finishing what someone else started. But rut brain is no joke. When he looks up, it’s like being tranquilized.
Panting against the wall, knees trembling, pink from his cheeks to the apex of his thighs, Sae looks completely wrecked. Ryuusei doesn’t know if his head is spinning because of the hit or the AOE damage from seeing Sae’s furious eyes wet with tears. Ryuusei did that. He did that, and knowing it feels almost as satisfying as blowing his load does.
“Nice one, Underlashes. For someone who can barely stand.”
“Eat shit,” Sae says. Ryuusei grins, wiping a hand across his face. The scent he catches reminds him that these fingers are the same ones he just had inside Sae.
He doesn’t even think about it. Holding Sae’s eyes, Ryuusei drags his tongue over the swell of his palm, and up between his fingers, delighting in Sae’s silent disgust almost as much as the taste of his slick. He doesn’t really mind the blood—he barely registers anything beneath the potent pheromones that tell him exactly how good he made Sae feel.
Sae’s expression twists—then falters just as quickly. Ryuusei’s body moves before he has time to think it through.
“Don’t touch me,” Sae says, but he lets Ryuusei haul him up by the waist, because that’s the only thing that keeps his knees from slamming into the ground. Sae braces one of his hands on Ryuusei’s shoulders, turning his face away—in anger or humiliation or both. His chest rises and falls like he can’t catch his breath. It’s so pathetic, Ryuusei feels a little sorry. Mostly, though, he’s just incredibly turned on.
“You really are an omega,” he says. When Sae looks at him again, it’s with an air of resigned annoyance. He doesn’t stop Ryuusei from sliding one of his hands down his waist and grabbing a handful of his ass, or from pulling their hips together. “I wanna fuck the shit out of you.”
“You’re greedy.” That calculating, impenetrable look. Ryuusei’s cock throbs against Sae’s thigh.
“You like it.”
“It’s useful,” Sae clarifies.
Ryuusei says, “Sae-chan.”
“What? Are you waiting for me to put it in myself? Because—ngh—!”
Sae’s palms slap the wall as Ryuusei spins him around. If he’s angry about being manhandled, Ryuusei wouldn’t know. All of his attention narrows to the place he’s currently spreading Sae apart, from the tight little furl of his asshole to his glistening pussy. If Ryuusei had any patience left, he’d get on his knees and eat Sae out until he cried for real. But the moment he feels that heat on the head of his cock, his singular focus becomes spearing it open.
Sae hisses, arching his back. “Fucking—slow down—!”
“No way,” Ryuusei says, curling over him. “Take it.” And Sae does, inch by inch, despite his squirming. Ryuusei licks at the place where Sae’s fingers cover his nape in silent encouragement. It’s tight, but Sae’s soft and pliant from his orgasm, and so wet that there’s not much resistance. It feels fucking amazing—Ryuusei wouldn’t be able to stop even if he wanted to. Even if Sae begged him to.
But all Sae manages as Ryuusei pushes deep into his guts is a whorish moan.
“God damn,” Ryuusei says. He grips Sae’s waist in one hand and pushes his hair out of his face with the other, pulling out nearly all the way just to watch how Sae’s cunt opens up when he pushes slowly back inside.
“Stop fucking around,” Sae snaps, after he’s done this a few times.
“Thought you wanted me to slow down,” Ryuusei says.
“Don’t forget where we are—ah!”
Ryuusei slams into him, hips meeting Sae’s ass with an audible slap. “Make up your mind.” Sae gasps and pushes up onto the balls of his feet as Ryuusei grinds into him, his fingers curling into fists against the wall. “Do you want me to go slow or do you want me to pound you?”
Sae doesn’t humor him with an answer, but Ryuusei doesn’t mind. They both know it’s not up to him anyway. He begins to fuck Sae in earnest, enjoying the headrush. It’s a waste of energy to care about where they are. Everything is loud—their colliding skin, the wet squelching, Sae’s halted gasps and held down whines—the walls echo it back like sounding boards. Anyone who took a single step into the locker room would know immediately what’s going on. If they didn’t hear it, they’d smell it. And if they had any sense, they’d keep their mouths shut and enjoy the show.
Ryuusei’s head lolls back. He’d nearly forgotten what it feels like to fuck during rut—sensation dialed up to 11, pleasure so powerful it makes his skin buzz. Everything about it is rewarding, but nothing more so than remembering whose pussy is sucking him in.
After a while, Ryuusei reaches for Sae's shoulder and prises him from the wall, pulling their bodies flush. Sae grunts in surprise when he does it, his spine arching as gravity drives the cock inside him deeper than before. “That good?” Ryuusei says against his ear. When he slips his hand down the front of Sae’s body to play with his clit, Sae makes a noise that isn’t yes but definitely means don’t stop. Ryuusei fucks him fast, mouthing at his neck, reminding himself not to bite.
The hand that isn’t protecting his nape reaches back and twists itself in Ryuusei’s hair. He can feel Sae heaving, stomach extending and contracting under his palms—Sae’a a violent, erotic livewire, and he falls apart on Ryuusei’s cock like he was made to do it.
Ryuusei hardly gives him a moment to recover. He pulls out and spins Sae around, hooking his leg over his hip so that it’s easy to sink back into his cunt. He kisses him, sloppy and open-mouthed. This time, Sae kisses back. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say he allows it—that he accommodates being tongue-fucked while Ryuusei’s thrusts jolt him against the wall. Eventually, Sae drags him away by his hair, gasping for breath, his head falling back against the tile. Half-dried blood is smeared across his face like lipstick.
Ryuusei feels the wicked grin it brings to his lips. His hips speed up as the twinge in the pit of his stomach begins to sharpen. Sae’s body draws taut, bracing itself against the onslaught. He looks disoriented when he opens his eyes, but it’s a distinct feeling, Ryuusei’s been told. And Sae catches on quick.
“Mn—wait—” Sae pushes at him suddenly, fingers slipping across the plane of Ryuusei’s chest, nails cutting into his skin. Ryuusei keeps fucking him. “Don’t knot me in the fucking shower, idiot.” The leg not wrapped around Ryuusei makes a powerful, dangerous kick at his kneecap.
Ryuusei catches Sae under the knee, lifting him from the ground completely. “Shut up,” he says. His singular focus is the place Sae swallows him up over and over again. He can feel the growing resistance of Sae’s body as his knot continues to swell; knows Sae feels it too when he begins to wince, his noises turning short and panicked. Ryuusei’s going to fucking breed him.
But before Ryuusei can push all the way back inside, locking them together, Sae reaches between their bodies, wraps both of his hands around Ryuusei’s knot, and squeezes.
Ryuusei’s hips stutter, a guttural sound tearing its way out of his throat. Sae’s hands are a barrier, but they’re also a forming a vise that feels too good to not fuck into. The sensation is different than being inside him, but it’s tight and it’s warm and it’s Sae and it’s just enough to convince his body it’s done what it’s supposed to. He buries his face in Sae’s neck, shuddering as his knot pops fully.
Then Sae says, “Good boy,” and Ryuusei comes so hard he nearly blacks out. He might not have knotted inside, but the rest of his cock is still buried deep, filling him up, pulsing with the rhythmic squeezes of Sae’s hands.
“Shit,” Ryuusei groans, eyes rolling up into his head. He’s so good at that, Ryuusei thinks. Like he knows where each wave crests, and when to meet it. It’s like Sae’s fucking milking him. “Keep doing that.”
Sae does—even when Ryuusei’s hips begin to jerk from overstimulation. He doesn’t stop until Ryuusei nips at the juncture of his neck, whole body trembling, and even then, it’s probably because he’s worried about being dropped on his ass. Plainly, it’s petty. Plainly, it makes for the best fucking orgasm Ryuusei’s ever had in his life.
Sae’s hands fall away. Ryuusei shivers at the sudden loss of warmth around his sensitive knot, holding Sae’s body tighter as he comes down. His wet hair is cold against Ryuusei’s nose. His skin smells like soap and sweat and something so faint, but distinctly sweet. Ryuusei breathes it all in until Sae squirms in his arms. “If you’re done, let me down,” he says. He holds Ryuusei’s shoulder once he’s back on his feet, shifting his weight, grimacing as Ryuusei’s wet cock slips out of him. “Ugh.”
Watching his cum drip out of Sae and splatter the tile, something like post-nut clarity sets in. Sae’s stomach flinches under the unexpected brush of his fingers. “Is there a chance I actually got you pregnant?” Ryuusei asks.
Sae smacks his hand away. “Did getting hit give you brain trauma?”
“Just checking,” Ryuusei says, amused. It’s not like he wants to ruin Sae’s life, and possibly his own—it’s just that his knot hasn’t fully gone down yet, and he can’t stop picturing it, or imagining the primitive, bone-deep satisfaction he would feel to know his seed took. It’s so easy, it’s hilarious. An hour ago, he didn’t even know it was possible.
“Hey,” Sae says. “You have to keep your mouth shut about this. You know that, right?”
Ryuusei hums. “I dunno. Do I?” The look it gets him is positively murderous. “Aw, lighten up. I’m not gonna tell anyone I fucked your brains out.”
“That’s not—”
“Or that you’re an omega,” Ryuusei says. “Do you want it in writing or what?”
Sae’s eyes narrow. His body seems to relax, though, like exhaustion’s cut his strings. Watching him, Ryuusei’s struck with that feeling again—that this is a script Sae’s followed before. “As long as you get it, demon.”
Before Ryuusei can say anything else, a very cold spray of water hits his back. He yelps and stiffens, crowding Sae against the wall in his attempt to get away from it. Sae stares up at him remorselessly with his hand on the knob. “Move,” he says. “They’ll turn the lights out soon.”
Watching Sae finger the cum out of himself doesn’t do nothing for Ryuusei’s libido, but the frigid temperature of the water forbids anything more than a quick joint wash-up. He’ll have to give himself an injectable at home to curb his rut, but the urgency from earlier is gone. When Ryuusei drapes himself over Sae in the middle of getting dressed, it’s all affection—and maybe a little bit about making sure Sae smells like him.
“Don’t goooooo,” he says, rubbing their cheeks together.
Sae jabs him in the side with his elbow. “Get off. I told you, I have things to do.”
“Then tonight,” Ryuusei says, ignoring the pain in his ribs. “Let me come over to your place.”
“Rin will be there.”
“So?”
Sae cranes his head around, looking mildly entertained as he pulls his pants over his hips. “I’m staying with my parents, dumbass.”
Ryuusei pulls him close again, his bare chest against Sae’s back, his chin on Sae’s shoulder. Maybe he’s just tired, but Sae is unexpectedly tolerant. “I want to hang out during the break,” Ryuusei says, pouting.
“You’re being clingy,” Sae points out. “Are you a demon or a baby bird?” Then, after a put-upon sigh, he holds his hand out. Ryuusei blinks at it until his fingers curl impatiently. “Do you want my number or not?”
Ryuusei procures his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and sets it in Sae’s waiting palm. He watches Sae’s thumbs move over the screen in silence. “If you blow up my phone,” Sae warns, handing it back to him, “I’m blocking you.”
Ryuusei stares down at his contact. “I’m gonna text you later.”
“Don’t,” Sae says, shaking him off.
“Then I’ll call you.”
“You’d better have a reason, or I’ll hang up.”
“Hey. Sae-chan.”
“What?”
“Can I fuck you again?”
Ryuusei knows that if it were anyone else, this would be a bad time to ask. No—that it would be an unwise thing to ask at all. But when Sae glances back at him, bag slung over his shoulder, his expression is as impassive as ever. “Maybe,” he says, with the same inflection anyone else would talk about grabbing lunch. “You’d have to earn it, though.”
Earn it.
Ryuusei feels the words like an invisible tug at his neck. He’d been joking about the collar earlier, but he wonders if the real thing would make his heart race half this fast. He stares back at Sae, picturing a leash wrapped around his hand.
“I think I'll take you up on that.”