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“Hey, Hajime-chaaa~an!”
Ryoma stiffened when he heard the excited shriek behind him and quickened his steps.
“Oi! You ignorin’ me!?” woven sandals clapped loudly against the paved stone street as they caught up to him.
“Okita-san,” said Ryoma, his scowl audible in his tone.
“Another night out drinkin’? How ‘bout I join you again?” said Okita, leaning forward over the arm Ryoma had resting on his blade to invade his space.
“You can’t keep up and I’m not in the mood to carry you back to Mibu,” said Ryoma. His elbow knocked into Okita's forehead as the First Captain fell behind with his odd walking position.
“Ow–Ah! What if I treat ya this time?” Okita persisted.
“I’m not here to drink,” said Ryoma.
“Here to get yer dick wet then?” said Okita, scooting up the path to backstep along it in front of Ryoma.
“Out of my way, Okita. I have a schedule to keep to,” said Ryoma, sidestepping around Okita.
“Oh, someone’s grouchy! What, got a case o’ the blue balls?” said Okita, skipping after him again.
“Yes, that’s usually why someone goes to Gion,” said Ryoma matter-of-factly. He stepped off the path to enter one of the establishments.
Okita staggered to a stop when Ryoma ditched him and he craned his head up to look up at the engraved wooden sign. Some fancy calligraphy he could never decipher but he remembered the ningyo sitting over the words. He had visited just a few times in the past to sate his curiosity. A bathhouse brothel that wasn’t light on the coin purse. Its private baths were a safe haven for omegas and alphas in heat to get their freak on without ruining any tatami mats with their excess of body fluids. Okita pushed the corner of the hanging crimson noren up with the back of his hand and stepped through to see Ryoma had ditched his sandals at the genkan. The okami was bowing as she handed Ryoma a bamboo pail, a washcloth was folded to hang neatly over its rim and a plain plum colored yukata sat folded on top. Ryoma accepted it with a curt bow back.
“Please freshen up and relax in the bath,” said the okami, straightening. Someone was strumming on a shamisen in a nearby room, but the muffled moans and screams of people in the throes of passion could be heard down the halls.
“Alpha or omega?” asked Okita. The okami looked towards him, her flawless brow barely furrowed with a slight shadow at his invasive question.
Ryoma looked over his shoulder at Okita and said, “That’s for paying customers to know.”
Okita’s jaw dropped with a tiny, “Haw?” and Ryoma walked down one of the halls to leave him gawking in front of the okami’s desk, “Wait, ya mean–”
“Apologies, milord. Only staff and paying customers may proceed beyond this point,” said the okami when Okita kicked his sandals off to climb the genkan, she bowed to him from her seat atop the genkan once she had his attention.
“Eh? How much for that one that just walked away?”
The okami sighed at Okita with strained politeness, “Aki is already fully booked for his employment here.”
“Aki-chan’s in high demand huh? Must be a good lay. How much is he? Bet I can offer more,” said Okita, jangling his coin-filled sleeves.
“This establishment only accepts ryo and you would need Aki’s permission to buy his services,” said the okami, a judgmental undertone just barely slipping out, “Furthermore, his dynamic may not even be what you seek.”
Okita fished out two ryo and placed it in front of the okami, “There, now I’m a payin’ customer. And I’m not picky ‘bout what Aki-chan’s got in his pants.”
The okami didn’t move to accept the money. She bowed to him and said, “I will send a maid to ask if Aki will be amenable to your custom tonight. Do you wish to disclose your own dynamic, milord?”
“Alpha,” said Okita.
“Alpha and not picky, noted,” said the okami, holding back her amusement, “Aki’s time was purchased at 3 ryo.” The fuck? He paid more than half that for an excuse just to enter the place.
“Just 3 ryo...,” said Okita, “I gotta have a conversation with him 'bout undersellin’.”
“What is your offer, milord?” asked the okami, "Please keep in mind that this would be an inconvenience to the customer that bought his time."
“Will 8 ryo on top of my entry fee cover it?” asked Okita.
The okami raised her hand and one of the maids nearby came to kneel by her zabuton and accept her order, “See if Aki will accept the offer.”
The maid walked swiftly in the direction Saito had vanished towards with hushed little steps. The okami’s arms opened to welcome Okita beyond the genkan, “Please, make yourself comfortable while we await the answer.” He leaned across a cushioned bench nearby but sat back up to accept a hot handcloth and warm sake from the okami. He’d just about finished his drink when the maid returned with a bow to whisper in the okami’s ear.
The okami picked up a bucket much like the one she’d handed to Saito earlier from the shelf behind her desk and handed it to the maid, “Aki will see you now, milord. Please follow Tsubaki to his room.”
“Bout damn time,” said Okita, putting his cup down on the seat beside him with a loud clack and standing.
*
Okita stepped into Aki’s room once the maid handed the bucket with the washcloth and folded yukata over to him. The thin wooden door slid shut behind him. The whole room was wood and stone like a public bath, with benches to sit and lay down on both in the bath and out of it. Red-papered andon lamps filled the dark spaces to provide the place with some light, casting a peach colored glow across the room. There wasn’t a single futon or soft cushion in sight.
“You can leave and take your money back if you don’t clean yourself before joining me,” said Ryoma from one of the large, square baths set against the wall.
“Course, ya think I am? Some kinda heathen?” said Okita, tossing a folded teal yukata from his bucket on top of the purple one Ryoma had placed in a cubby nearby, “Don’t answer that.” He untied his blades and set them on the empty stand next to Ryoma’s, then stripped out of his clothes and balled them up into another cubby on top of Ryoma’s neatly folded kimono and hakama. He pulled off the tsuba tied around his head and dropped it on top of the shelf with a clatter, then took the bucket and washcloth to the washing station. The water he drew to soap and wash himself with was reasonably hot, and made him wonder how the room itself wasn’t steaming or especially humid. After scrubbing himself clean and rinsing off with a few buckets over the head, he approached Ryoma’s bath.
“Eh?” Okita said as he stuck his leg into lukewarm water.
“What?” said Ryoma, tilting his head back to look up at Okita’s eyes. This was the first time Ryoma could see both irises, one shimmering and dark in the lamplight, the other that usually hid behind the ugly adornment he often wore; cloudy with blindness beneath the uneven wrinkles of his scarred eyelid.
“Ah, I thought they woulda figured out the hot water problem after all this time,” said Okita, sliding in beside Ryoma and peaking a glance at his naked form. Ryoma’s hair was undone, slicked back against his skull, dark wet strands running down the back of his neck with a few stray tendrils curled into the hollow of his collarbone.
“The hot bath is shared if you want to go out for it. But it’s also a public exhibition hall,” said Ryoma, patting his face with a splash of water, “This one’s to cool an omega’s heat. Or an alpha’s rut.”
“Huh… So, now that I’m a payin’ customer, do I get my answer?” asked Okita.
Ryoma leaned his head back on the edge of the bath and closed his eyes, “Omega.”
“That so? I guessed wrong,” said Okita.
Ryoma made a, “Hmph,” noise but it sounded more like a laugh than a scoff. Yes, Ryoma was an omega. An uncommon but not entirely rare anomaly across humanity. Like all male omegas, he was sterile, a piece of knowledge that had placed him in the goshi caste at birth.
“I always wanted ta fuck another alpha, but a male omega…,” said Okita, intrigued, “Can’t say I’ve had one’a those either. Three ryo though? Ain’t guys like you kinda rare?”
“I value easy partners over wealthy ones, you seem like anything but easy,” said Ryoma.
In truth, Okita was as acceptable a partner as any Ryoma’s had. He wasn’t especially picky about how his alphas looked, but he usually chose the meek ones that were practically falling over themselves for the attention of any omega willing to take them. Alphas that wouldn’t ask too many questions and simply gave him what he needed. One had been a woman with the mutual understanding of what it meant to be born an anomaly, one of the only alphas he’d had more than a few words with during their transaction. After the bath house took its share, he made even less than Okita presumed. Ryoma just didn’t want to deal with the arrogance that was such a common trait among the wealthy that visited Gion. And yet here he was, the First Captain. Not that anyone would guess Okita had any wealth at first glance, even though it was common knowledge among the Shinsengumi that he hoarded the rewards from his jobs like a miser.
Okita tilted his head, “Don’t that get boring?”
Ryoma rose from the bath and grabbed one of the thick cloths mounted on a rack nearby to dry some of the water from his body. Okita turned in the bath to follow Ryoma’s body as he went to pour himself a cup of sake. Lean calves and toned thighs led up to rounded buttocks that were usually hidden under the bulk of his kimono. Nestled in wavy, wiry, short black hairs, his cock at half mast, probably similarly sized as some beta men, significantly smaller than an aroused alpha. A trail of short hairs tapered off upwards to a trim waist that curved in slightly and widened out into a broad chest and broader shoulders, thickly corded with muscle from holding up a blade for most of his life. Ryoma threw the towel over his head to wring the water from his hair, turning his back as he sipped from his cup.
Okita stepped out of the bath next, dripping water all over the grated floorboards as he walked over to join Ryoma, feet padding softly on wet flooring. Ryoma tugged the towel down and turned to face him as he approached, handing the towel over when Okita held his hand out so he could also dry himself roughly with a few blots.
“You could just get a fresh one,” said Ryoma, pouring himself another cup.
“I’ve got plans for those,” said Okita, throwing the dampened towel back onto the rack in a messy bundle and tugging off the three dry cloths still hanging from it.
“Over here,” said Ryoma, “Sit.” He’d moved over to a spacious wide bench with a sloped backrest for reclining against. Okita joined him and threw the thick cloths across the seat as cushioning. Ryoma wasted no time and pushed him down on the bench to sit, then mounted his thighs to sit on his lap.
“Haw, don’t I get to admire the merch a bit more?” asked Okita, leaning on the backrest so he could look at Ryoma’s front. Toned all over with a wide ribcage, pectorals soft at rest and big enough to make the average woman in Kyo jealous. So it wasn’t just a trick of the eye from the shadows of his kimono draping around him in his rakish disguise.
He watched Ryoma lift himself up onto his knees to press his fingers behind his cock.
“Can I?” asked Okita, hand coming to press his thumb into the dip where Ryoma’s hip connected to his thigh.
“I can take care of it from here, you paid, so you can relax,” said Ryoma.
“Just. Never seen a male omega’s bits before,” said Okita.
Ryoma sighed impatiently but said, “Fair enough,” and stood up. He turned around and spread his cheeks with his hands, bending forward a bit as he presented himself.
“Fuck,” Okita’s eye had bugged at the display, “Yer not shy in the bedroom at all, are ya?” He wrapped one hand around Ryoma’s hip to help balance him and stroked his thumb down the exposed crease between his buttocks. The anatomy didn’t appear very different from a beta man’s, and Okita was surprised there wasn’t a second hole or something as his thumb stroked across the dip between Ryoma's anus and his balls. One thing was different though, Ryoma’s ass was leaking a bit. He thumbed at the moist rim, feeling moisture slick the pad of his finger. Contrary to the depictions in popular shunga, omega women did not gush lubricant when they were in heat, but they could get a bit messy. It seemed that omega men were not so different.
“Go ahead,” said Ryoma, removing one of his hands to stroke his own cock, “put your fingers in.”
Okita gently inserted his middle finger, watching it sink in with ease as it was slicked up by Ryoma’s hole. Ryoma’s balls slapped against the knuckles of his hand as he jerked himself. He pulled out and pushed back in with two fingers, testing the slick, hot flesh inside as he pushed against the walls. The ring of muscle at the entrance seemed to be getting looser as well as Ryoma continued to stroke himself. He barely heard Ryoma’s breath pick up over the trickling of the water spout that emptied into the bath.
“Turn your palm up, and use your fingers to,” said Ryoma. Okita did as instructed, stroking his fingers towards Ryoma's spine and stopping when he felt his fingertips catch on a tiny puckered dip in the wet flesh, “Don’t push your finger in, but that… closes when I’m in heat. And aroused.”
“Oh,” said Okita, stupefied in wonderment. So that’s why Ryoma’s ass felt a bit like pussy. He had so many questions that were probably inappropriate to ask, and now definitely wasn’t the time to ask them.
Ryoma turned around, pulling Okita’s fingers out of himself in the process and got back into position on top of Okita’s lap with his knees braced on the slope of the backrest. He wrapped his hand around Okita’s thick cock, completely encircling it with his fingers. And fuck, that always felt nice to Okita, having a partner with hands big enough to do that. Ryoma stroked him firmly until his cock was standing up against his belly and drooling a clear rivulet of slick moisture. Then without much ceremony, he aligned Okita with himself and sank down, ripping a groan from Okita’s lips.
“Damn, ya really just get down to business, don’tcha?” said Okita, hands flying up to Ryoma’s waist.
Ryoma’s arms braced against the slanted surface of the backrest, boxing in Okita’s head between his forearms. He lifted himself into a squat and plunged back down, his thighs flexing, the muscles across his entire front torso rippling as he worked. Okita felt his cock twitch as it leaked more of its natural lubricant into his omega, preparing them both to be knotted.
“Tell me, when you’re close,” said Ryoma, words coming out strained and abrupt as he bounced on Okita’s cock. Even loosened by arousal, Ryoma was deliciously tight, and alphas usually came fast and frequently.
“Close,” said Okita, not long after. Ryoma leaned all his weight on one hand and fisted himself, letting out a soft moan as he ejaculated onto Okita’s abs and slammed his pelvis down, seating himself fully on the alpha’s cock.
Okita groaned as Ryoma’s hole flexed and clenched around him, “Shit!” his hands flew up to grab Ryoma’s hips and he fucked up into the twitching hole with a few short thrusts before his orgasm came, his knot swelling to lock them together. He heard Ryoma cry out above him as he was filled, and he looked up to see the usually stoic face soft with ecstasy, mouth agape, lips slack.
Ryoma sank down to his knees, thighs squeezing against Okita’s waist as his insides pulsed and flexed, and Okita whimpered beneath him. He let out a satisfied sigh, back arching with his head thrown back like a giant sated cat.
“Oh, fuck!” yelped Okita, wincing a little as Ryoma’s body squeezed him harder, “what the hell, you’re tighter than any pussy I’ve ever fucked.”
Ryoma bent towards Okita, his cock still stiff and twitching against his flexing abdomen as his orgasm continued to milk the cock knotted inside him, “Mmmhh… my body isn’t really used to this.”
“What, you a virgin?” asked Okita, looking a little turned on by the idea of having deflowered Ryoma, even if it was highly unlikely when this guy brought them both to orgasm like a professional whore.
Ryoma couldn’t hold back a moan as pleasure continued to light up his nerves with an omega’s lengthy orgasm, “N-no. I mean I only do this when I have to.”
“So ya don’t sit on enough dick,” said Okita.
“Tch, crude. I just don’t need it,” said Ryoma, “most of the time.”
“Do you even enjoy it?” asked Okita, what couldn’t possibly be concern edging his voice.
Instead of replying, Ryoma grabbed one of Okita’s wrists and guided his hand to his cock. Okita wrapped his fingers around Ryoma’s length and pulled the hood of foreskin back to rub his pointer finger over the shiny, throbbing head, squeezing the underside with his thumb. They both groaned as the motion made Ryoma’s hole spasm and clench down harder.
Ryoma grinded down against Okita and said, “Keep going.”
“So bossy, I thought the payin’ customer gets the service,” moaned Okita, but he complied, pressing his forehead into Ryoma’s sternum so he could look down. He rubbed the head of Ryoma’s cock as the other man grinded into his lap until the omega roared when his orgasm peaked again and he striped Okita's face with his spend. Okita was having too good a time to complain, but he rubbed the mess off against Ryoma's breast.
Ryoma gripped the muscles across Okita’s shoulders with both hands and writhed as his hole milked his alpha’s knot for more cum. He tugged at the untied tail of hair on the back of Okita’s head to tilt his head back so Ryoma could rub his neck against the dense facial hair at Okita’s chin. He let out a shuddering sigh at the burning prickle against his skin, “Nngh… good.”
Okita let go of Ryoma’s cock to dig his fingers into Ryoma’s hips, wincing, “Aaa~ah loosen up a bit, Hajime-chan. Yer gonna snap my dick off.” He was being dramatic, but felt Ryoma relax against him.
Okita rubbed his palm up and down the sides of Ryoma’s ribs.
“Hey, Hajime-chan?” said Okita.
“Mm?”
“What’s it like when yer in heat without an alpha to fill ya?”
“Aren’t you nosy,” asked Ryoma, more statement than question.
“Can’t help my nature,” said Okita. It was true enough, the amount of times he’d found Okita poking his nose into Saito Hajime’s life was evident of that.
“It aches,” said Ryoma, “it aches inside almost like a bruise.”
“Haw… I don’t think I’d want anyone pushin’ on my bruises,” said Okita, “but I guess I can’t help pressin’ my own.”
“I guess it's like sore muscles brought to their limit,” said Ryoma, “so it feels good when someone… pushes back against it all. Like a massage.”
“Betas can’t do it?”
Ryoma shook his head no, “Would be nice if that worked. Much easier to find beta partners.”
Okita lapped up some of the come that he'd smeared on Ryoma's chest, “Mm!?”
“What?”
“Tastes kinda sweet,” said Okita with fascination, latching his lips around the edge of Ryoma’s jaw to lick it clean.
“Must be your hormones speaking,” said Ryoma dismissively, eyes sliding shut with a quiet whine as Okita’s soft tongue traveled up to lave at tendon along his neck and the hollow of his jaw.
“Let me suck you off later,” said Okita, licking his lips clean.
“Maybe,” said Ryoma, laying his cheek against Okita’s shoulder as he slouched into the man beneath him without a care for the sticky mess he’d left between their bodies.
If Ryoma pressed all his weight into Okita’s arms seeking the comfort of another human’s touch, Okita either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to care. Despite his heat-addled prickliness, Ryoma also didn’t complain when Okita’s arms squeezed around his waist to pull him closer. For all that planning around heats had inconvenienced his entire adult life, it was the one time every lunar cycle or so that he could indulge in the comfort freely given by his alpha partners. A hand stroking his back, rubbing his shoulders or fingers carding through his hair. It’s not as though anyone could just ask for such things because they craved it. If the cruel caress of a street fight or a duel against Okita was the closest to that touch, it’s why no one would find Ryoma turning or running from either challenge.
Okita brushed the wet strands of Ryoma’s wet hair to the side to see his face better, watching his glazed expression sharpen as it locked onto Okita’s eye, “Alright, Hajime-chan?”
“Yeah,” said Ryoma, blinking the fuzziness out of his consciousness, “my legs are getting numb.” Okita helped him stand and Ryoma inhaled sharply when Okita pulled out of him, cock still stiff but knot abated enough for them to separate. He felt his hole twitch shut and gape open again, seeking a knot to fill him properly again as it drooled with a mixture of his own slick and Okita's spend.
“Wanna lie down?” asked Okita, sliding down to lay on his side, patting the space in front of him.
Ryoma’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to protest.
“I’m not gonna bite ya,” said Okita.
Ryoma snapped his jaw shut.
“S’why ya prefer to sit on me. Right? When it’s easier the other way,” said Okita, “Yer afraid someone’ll bond ya?”
No other alpha had ever clued into why he preferred to do all the work.
“I don’t have time for a mate,” said Ryoma simply.
“If I bite and bond ya here,” said Okita, “I’ll let ya gut me with my own knife to call it even.”
Ryoma sat on the bench and laid down on his side, back pressed to Okita’s chest. Okita took himself in hand and pushed back into Ryoma’s leaking hole. He reached over Ryoma’s hip and pressed his palm against the underside of Ryoma’s cock to give him some friction, then pounded into him with a brutal pace of quick, short thrusts until he came again, pushed deep inside to knot Ryoma once more. A few quick pulls with his hand and Ryoma ejaculated into Okita’s hand, his body trembling against Okita's, hole tightening around his alpha’s cock to milk a satisfied groan out of them both.
Okita pulled Ryoma back to lean against his chest, one arm sliding under his neck to sling across Ryoma’s chest, the other tossed over the dip of Ryoma’s waist. The thought of a different alpha taking his place tomorrow, and possibly the day after as well filled Okita with a possessive spirit. This man belonged to him, he’d decided that the day Saito Hajime walked into the Shinsengumi with strength to match Okita's.
“Lemme buy the rest of yer bookings, Hajime-chan,” said Okita, nosing at Ryoma’s shoulder, “Why go to Gion when Okita can take care of ya any time?”
“The money here is good,” said Ryoma, “The amenities, even better.” An excuse, but it was an honest answer. He only showed up to sell his heat once a month when his baser instincts needed to be met, but he did have payments to make on the property he’d spontaneously purchased.
“That it? Ya got needs that gotta be met?” asked Okita, “Then I’ll just hafta provide for my omega like a good alpha. Maybe I can buy ya a nice kimono to wear next time, like yer my wife.”
“I haven’t agreed to anything, Okita,” said Ryoma, “and I’m certainly not your omega.”
“Haw? Yer so needy, Hajime-chan,” said Okita, groaning as he reflexively pumped his hips into the suckling, wet grip of Ryoma’s feverish heat, “Do I gotta court ya all proper?”
“Would the Shinsengumi even permit that?”
“Toshi-chan once made a drunken wish that half the alphas at the barracks should be omegas. Said he’d prefer it if the pack could pair off and fuck each other instead, means ya get two guys out at the same time to howl at the moon instead of everyone stragglin’ off to Gion separately.”
Ryoma snorted, Hijikata probably wouldn’t appreciate having that inebriated opinion shared.
“How long does your heat last?” asked Okita.
“Two more days, probably,” said Ryoma, “Hijikata knows not to expect me for a while.”
“Then I’ll buy ya out for the remainder too,” said Okita, head ducking for a moment, “If you’ll let me”
“Fine,” said Ryoma, playing at exasperation even though he was surprised to feel a sense of relief at the offer. He let himself be cradled in Okita’s arms, “Call for the maid when we’re done tonight.”
“It’s a deal,” said Okita, “but for now, I’m gonna fuck ya again ‘til you pass out on my knot.”
Ryoma laughed, “Remember when you threatened to drink me under the table?”
“O-oi, don’t remind me,” said Okita, a hand groping between them to trace a finger around the taut flesh of the hole still stretched around his knot.
It was foolish to accept Okita’s offer to share their heats and ruts, but a fool, Sakamoto Ryoma was. Perhaps they will both have forgotten this agreement they made on a whim when the time came around again. Ryoma was never one for prayers, but as he looked over his shoulder and wove his fingers through Okita’s bangs to demand a single kiss, he prayed that his mission did not end with their blades pointed at each other.