Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shoyo knows it's going to be a bad one. He knows, can feel it brewing and steeping inside of him. He can't stop it, can't even try to lessen it. He's out of options.

You can only abuse suppressants for so long…eventually even those don't work. Which is terrifying. When you've tried everything under the sun…and then your last option is taken away too…

He's just trying to change into his practice clothes. Every inch of his skin crawls with discomfort. He can feel everything across his razor sensitive skin. He wishes he could claw his way outside of himself. He can't though. He just has to deal with it. It always comes back to having to fucking suck it up.

The world won't wait around for him to be different. And…until he’s out of child bearing age, he won't be different. He shoves his street clothes into his locker and slams it shut. It's so fucking unfair.

Both body and society don't give a fuck that it's unfair. Nobody cares. Even other omegas don't seem to get it. Especially the mated ones. The lucky ones.

Sometimes Shoyo thinks about it…the relief it would provide. But…it's not a choice to be taken lightly. The hurt it would cause if Shoyo picked the wrong mate…it would be devastating. Life long devastation.

So he pushes the thoughts of mates out of his mind. It's unlikely he’ll ever find someone who wants him.

“You alright Sho?” Bokuto asks, head tilted towards the lockers.

“Yup,” Shoyo bites off, trying his hardest to not actually be a dick for no reason. It fucking hurts though. The cramps are nearly unbearable this time. The world doesn't hit pause just for an omega’s pain. It never has.

Shoyo looks down at his stomach. He wishes he could just rip it all out. It's not like anyone is ever going to want his fucking kids anyway…why does he even have these parts?

Another wave of cramps, sharp and acute slice through him, he leans against the closed locker in front of him. Is he even going to be able to play? He’s nearly brought to his knees before the pain finally subsides. When he pushes himself back upright he finds several teammates watching him.

Shoyo isn't a rageful person…most of the time. He doesn't like this part of himself. He hates this part of himself. It's dark, moody…mean. This part of him is mean.

He catches Bokuto chewing on his bottom lip, right up until his mouth opens to say something and Shoyo knows, he just knows whatever it is, it's going to be some well meaning alpha bullshit that just makes him even angrier. He doesn't want to hate Bokuto.

“It's just cramps, okay?” His words are harsh, “Everyone doesn't need to ogle the token omega.”

Everyone looks away. Everyone but Atsumu. Somehow, that makes the rage inside of Shoyo build even more. This fucking guy. You think you get it? You don't fucking get anything. Fucking ruts are nothing like heats. An alpha in rut doesn't have a fucking body that tears itself apart to make room for a baby that is never, fucking, coming.

Shoyo turns on his heel before he starts fucking yelling. He books it out onto the court. Hands shaking in fists by his sides.

He remembers reading the words on his chart and knowing his life was always going to be steeped in pain.

Heat cycle disorder. Severe.

He was 11. He was eleven when his first heat nearly broke him. It lasted so long and he missed so much school. He had to learn at that young age, what it means to be sick. Sick in a way where he was never, ever going to get better. Maybe someday he could find a mate and his symptoms would lessen. But it would never be gone.

And now, he's dealt with it alone for so long that even the hope of a mate is truly waning. It's always just going to be him against the world. Him, begging his body to keep it together long enough for him to achieve his dreams. Him, crying, begging, hoping that his hard work can outdo his biology.

His feet hit the glossy gym floor. Here. Here is where he belongs. If he can just push through and --- he's doubled over before he's even a few feet onto the court.

His eyes water, staring down at a blurred wooden floor. This one is going to be so fucking bad. He just wants a break. He just wants one fucking month where this doesn't loom over him like a monster. His own resident fucking monster.

He's still staring at the floor when he hears his teammates leave the locker room behind him. They all probably thought they had given it enough time that the coast was clear.

It feels like his gut is being sliced open. Shoyo doesn't understand why his guts are not spilling onto the floor. It hurts so fucking bad. Why doesn't the pain correspond with reality? How can it hurt so much and just be trapped inside of him? If his hurt was on the outside, nobody would expect him to jump. Or dive. Or any of it.

It doesn't help that this particular heat is actually Shoyo’s fault. He's only been back in Japan for a few months. But the whole time he was in Brazil, nearly two years, he overused suppressants. He was so scared of having a true heat while so far from home. So far from anyone he trusted. The suppressants were not enough to fully take away his heats, but they prevented the full effect. All those heats…two years worth. They are here now.

He feels somebody’s hand lightly touch his back. The texture and pressure sends his body into overdrive. It hurts. He flinches away, whipping his head around to find Atsumu.

“Shoyo,” he says gently. In that tone. In that fucking tone. The tone of everyone who has ever told Shoyo that he shouldn't do this sport. Shouldn't push his body this way. The tone of every person who thought that Shoyo shouldn't get to have what he wanted.

Shoyo turns and heads straight back into the locker room. It should be empty by now. His eyes start to overflow. He's tired. He's so fucking tired. He's so tired of fighting his body. Of always feeling the looming dread. Of always needing to watch his back and be vigilant because apparently omegas are the only fucking ones with self control.

When pain is a fundamental part of your whole fucking life, you sure get with the program pretty fast.

When society prefers you and idolizes you, paving the way for whatever it is you want, you never have to learn how to make yourself small. You don't have to learn how to push down your wants and needs to fit the shape society needs you to be.

He wants it all to stop. He can't fucking keep doing this. He needs to scream. There is fucking nowhere he can scream. He can't keep it all inside of him anymore. He is fucking going to fly apart into a thousand pieces.

Alone in the locker room, every breath echoed and amplified, he can hear how close he is to truly freaking out. He blinks, tears falling down to his cheeks. The pain shoots up his back and he falls to his knees. It hurts. It's hurts so fucking much. He gives in, crumpling to the floor where he landed. The floor is cool against his skin. The closest thing to any relief he has had. He cries silently, his body rioting from within.

Maybe he should just let some alpha knock him up. The heats would at least stop. Shoyo cries harder. The fact that he would even think that…think of bringing a human into the world just to temporarily relieve his pain. It's sick.

He wants it to stop. He needs it to stop. Please. Please.

Shoyo’s brain is pulsing. Pain. Agony. Hate. Loneliness…Regret…it's all swimming around inside of him. All proving what a worthless omega and human he is. Useless. Unwanted. Sick.

He sobs against the floor. He's sick. He's really sick. He doesn't want to do the hospital again. It was so fucking hard. Maybe he needs to go home…but how will he get there? Maybe he can get a ride from one of the betas? It shouldn't be like this. An omegas life shouldn't fucking be like this.

His voice sobs ragged and raw against the floor. He keeps his face pressed to the cold, dirty floor. Dirty. Sick. Useless. Unwanted. Dirty. Sick. Useless. Unwanted. Dirty. Sick-

His brain tumbles through these words again and again. He tried so hard. He tried for so many years to make it work. He can't. He can't do it. He wasted his time.

His brain goes from throbbing to stuffed, like it's full of cotton. He struggles to piece together a thought, everything is slow and sticky. It feels like he's trying to wade through honey. His body flushes hotter than before, all of his skin even more sensitive. Suddenly the cold tiles of the floor are unbearable. He tries to push himself away from the sensation, but his body is weak.

“Easy,” a deep voice says. Warm skin touches his arm, helping to hold him up instead of letting him smash his face back down against the tile. The touch…it should hurt. It always hurts. It doesn't. That's scares Shoyo more than anything.

He groans, terrified and confused. He's no longer quite sure where he is, or why he's being touched.

“Fuck, he's burnin’ up you guys,” it's a familiar voice. A trusted voice. It soothes Shoyo a little to know someone he knows is here. Someone he knows is safer than a stranger.

Another hand, another voice. This hand touches his forehead, lingering there for a few seconds.

“He’s running a fever.”

“Shit, do’ya think he's, like, sick?”

“If I thought he was sick I wouldn't be in here, Miya.”

“Is he…you know?”

“Bokuto, you can say ‘heat’, it's not like a slur.”

Oh. Is that what this is? That makes some sense. But it wasn't quite due yet…

“We should inform the medic team, he’s gonna need some help to get home.”

Shoyo’s eyes fly open. No. No no no. He grabs onto the closest person he can find. Someone's ankle. Don't tell. He doesn't know why, but he's terrified they'll tell.

“Please don't,” his voice croaks, stuffed and raw from the sobbing.

“Sho, it's the right thing ta do,”

That's Atsumu, his brain supplies. He's starting to gain clarity, the fear and anxiety reactivate his brain. Don't tell. Please don't tell.

“They'll bench me,” Shoyo forces himself to say. If they tell, it'll go on his file as a medical heat absence. Then, when he's gone for way longer than is appropriate for a heat, the board will realize that he is disordered. They'll bench him. He’ll never be a starter again. There are barely omegas in the sport at all. Let alone a disordered one.

“Please don't,” he sobs, “I worked so hard,” he can barely see, his hand still clinging to someone’s ankle.

“You do,” Atsumu says gently, “You always work so hard.”

Shoyo cries harder. They are going to tell anyway. It was stupid to come to practice today. Shoyo just wanted to not have to lose time. Precious, precious time. He's always losing time and watching others go on ahead of him. Always looking down on him.

He takes in a wracking, inhale. Please don't tell. Please don't. He tries to look up at the men over him.

They are so blurry with his unending tears. He gives up and closes his eyes, body forcing shaking breaths in and out. He's nearly hyperventilating.

“Why would they bench ‘em?”

The space is quiet for a moment, “It's possible that it's not our business,” that's Kiyoomi, Shoyo thinks.

“But…what if he's, like, really hurt?”

Shoyo scoffs, only to immediately be grimacing in pain again, “heat disorder,” he bites out. This might be the only thing that can save him from them telling the medic team, “First one, ‘n two years.”

“Oh,” Kiyoomi

“Shit,” Atsumu

“What?” Bokuto. So Bokuto is here too, Shoyo thinks through the waves of pain.

“It's his first heat’n two years dumb ass.”

“What-how”

Atsumu groans, “You can tell ya zoned out during sex ed, Bokuto,” Atsumu comments, then more seriously, “Omi, will they bench him?”

“It's definitely possible.”

Shoyo groans, the muscles in his back spasming randomly.

“Fuck,” Atsumu whispers, “We can't leave him like this, he's slippin’ fast.”

Kiyoomi’s voice is muffled now, “Agreed, we should have already informed the medic team,” the leg that Shoyo had in his hand slips from his grasp. It was Kiyoomi’s.

He's leaving. To go. Tell. No. No. No no no-

“Wait,” Atsumu’s voice cuts and Kiyoomi’s footsteps stop, “We can't let them bench him.”

“I'm sure we can appeal if it comes to that,” Kiyoomi responds.

“No,” Atsumu says quickly, “I mean…I don't think we should tell them.”

“Miya…there is no other option.”

The steps resume. No. No. How can it all be over like this? On a dirty locker room floor?

“I'll help him, personally,” Atsumu blurts out, “it can just be a normal heat, no need for the medic team to get involved.”

“Miya,” Kiyoomi says dangerously.

“He can't get benched, it's not right,”

“Miya, he can't consent. It's too late.”

Fingers slide into Shoyo’s hair and it feels so…good. He reflexively nuzzles up into the touch. Kiyoomi’s voice is closer to his ear now. When did he walk back over?

“You can't, it's not right to take that on. I wouldn't let you, what if you hurt him? It would destroy both of you.” Kiyoomi’s voice is hard, even though what he says is actually so kind. Shoyo pants on the floor under all three of them. He knows he's at their mercy. He's weak. If one of them did decide to have him he would be quite powerless to fight them off. He should feel afraid.

He doesn't.

“What- what if we helped as a harem?” Atsumu.

The locker room is dead quiet. The only sound is Shoyo's shaking lungs.

“We would keep each other in line, keep it safe. We obviously all care. Hell, Bokuto I’d fight you if you tried anything.”

“And I'd fight you,” Bokuto says proudly.

“I would,” Kiyoomi says after a few seconds.

“We can do this, we can keep him safe and help him through this. He deserves to play. We can't let him go down for this.”

“What if he doesn't want this?” Kiyoomi asks.

Shoyo blindly graps his hand, looking for connection with any of them. He can't keep living like this. He can't. It hurts too much. He's too tired. Anything. He’ll do anything to take the edge off.

Someone links their hands together and squeezes Shoyo tightly.

“Please,” he forces himself to whisper.

“Please help.” Even to himself, he sounds so scared. His pelvis burns with constant pain. Shoyo hasn't stopped crying. Weak.

One of them lays a hand on Shoyo’s back. The pressure and warmth. Shoyo gasps, like he can suddenly breathe again. He looks up at the men around him, trying to blink away his tears enough to see.

“Please, I can't do it alone anymore,” His voice is wrecked. He gets the fleeting fear of what it means that he's willing to give this up, after all this time…what does it mean that he's so desperate, and so tired, and so hopeless…it's possible none of them even like Shoyo. This could be pure obligation and duty. A part of Shoyo doesn't even care.

He just wants relief. And he trusts these alphas more than an unknown alpha.

“Please, yes, to you, any of you, all of you. I can't do it anymore. Please. Please.”

The silence after Shoyo’s broken pleas stretches on and on. Shoyo feels his heart start to break as he feels sure they are settling on different, more sane solution.

“I'll talk to coach, say he's got the flu,” Kiyoomi.

“I'll get the car.” Bokuto

“I'll carry him out.” Atsumu.

Shoyo is picked up effortlessly. His back and legs are supported in Atsumu’s arms. Shoyo’s face tucks into his chest and shoulder.

“We’re gonna take care of you,” Atsumu whispers, “We will all keep each other in line. Promise.”

Shoyo wonders what they decided to do as his body starts to shiver uncontrollably.

“I will make sure nobody hurts you.” Atsumu says.

You can't promise that, Shoyo thinks as his body finally gives him relief by passing out.

Chapter Text

An unintended consequence of abusing suppressants…is that your teammates might decide to help you with your heat.

It's different in the enclosed space of the car. Even with scent patches on…three activated and protective alphas. He’s barely conscious, his brain nearly shut down. It's like his body can tell he needs to be docile for transport.

He finds himself in the backseat, presses between Bokuto and Atsumu. Their pheromones, the little bit he can detect, are soothing. An arm wraps around him…Atsumu’s.

“Sho, do you have a nest at home?”

The drivers door opens and Kiyoomi climbs in.

His nest. It's simple, nearly odorless…but yes, he has a nest for this heat. Just the thought of falling into all of those soft, chosen and arranged items fills his stomach with a warm fuzzy feeling. He nuzzles into Atsumu and nods.

“Okay, good,” Atsumu says softly, pulling Shoyo closer.

Shoyo’s body had been flicking back and forth between overheated and freezing cold. He hadn't been able to stop shivering on his own. With another body pressed against him…it suddenly doesn't feel so intense. He just feels pleasantly warm.

The car lurches forward and he grabs onto what is underneath him instinctually.

“Don't worry, we got you,” Atsumu purrs, laying a hand on his back.

Shoyo closes his eyes, trying not to let the way the car turns make him feel sick. Atsumu, or maybe Bokuto, keeps their hand on the middle of his back.

“I think you two should take off your patches,” Kiyoomi’s masked voice curves around into the backseat.

“Yeah, we should let Sho get used to us, and give ‘im the chance to reject us,” the hand on his back starts rubbing slow circles.

“Will you be okay Kiyoomi?” Bokuto asks.

“You two smell like shit but I can handle it,” Kiyoomi remarks, "I'll take mine off when we get there.”

There is rustling and then what had been a slight hint of pheromones, blooms into something new. Atsumu goes first. Shoyo can tell just from the smell. It's his setter.

Shoyo never quite understood how people could pick particular notes and flavors out of someone’s scent. He himself was always being compared to sickenly sweet foods or flowers. To Shoyo, people’s pheromones had body, not particular scents. It felt like something rather than smelling like something.

Atsumu always felt warm. Like sun warmed sand. Never so hot that it burned though. Like, dry, summer air. Cicadas buzzing in the trees. Full green summer foliage.

Bokuto comes next. His presence is sharp, and immediate, but there are lingering notes of something deeper. He feels more like…dusk. The sun bright and orange on the horizon, until it finally dips and you enter a moody new world. Where Atsumu feels dry, Bokuto has humidity. Like a healthy forest.

Mixed together, it's quite the experience. A perfect summer day, transitioning into that unpredictable twilight.

Kiyoomi is vigilant about patches, so Shoyo has never gotten more than a passing sense of what his could be.

Shoyo nuzzles his face into Atsumu’s lap.

“He doesn't seem to mind us,” Bokuto comments.

“Yeah,” Atsumu says softly, “I'm glad.”

For the rest of the ride Shoyo lets himself fall into all of the nuances and variations of their presences. This is the first time Shoyo has truly sat with an Alpha’s smell like this.

He can feel how his body craves it, his brain searching the air for more.

Usually an Alapha’s unmasked scent is frightening. It usually means that an alpha is not safe to be around. To carelessly wield power like that…Shoyo always makes sure he has space from that individual.

The feeling that circulates his body right now, is so different from the fear feeling he usually gets. Right now he is drowning in Alpha pheromones, and it doesn't feel scary, it feels right.

“Nearly there,” Kiyoomi comments, drawing Shoyo back to the present. Almost to his nest. He purrs, imagining how safe and cozy it will feel.

“Bo, your smell ain't too bad,” Atsumu comments, “It's earthy."

“You did not just compare him to dirt,” Kiyoomi remarks.

“It's not bad dirt! It's good dirt!”

“Have to say, I thought yours would be worse too,” Bokuto says back, “Yours is like…crisp, like a flatbread left in the oven too long.”

Shoyo feels Atsumu deflate a little. Stupid alphas.

“Both’re good,” Shoyo says quietly. That seems to shut them up. Another hand lands gently on Shoyo’s lower back. He likes feeling their hands on his back…he feels…protected. For once he doesn't have to watch his back. They are watching it for him.

The car pulls to a stop. Shoyo feels the tension snap tight. The energy swirling in the car is dizzying.

“You're going to choke him out, breathe, relax, control yourselves,” Kiyoomi says from the front seat.

“Sorry” Bokuto mutters, the oppressive weight of his heavy forest scent recedes. Atsumu pulls back too and Shoyo’s brain clears slightly. He glances up and out the window past Bokuto. They're outside his apartment.

Kiyoomi fidgets in the front. Shoyo’s eyes glance up towards the front of the car.

“I'm going to take mine off,” Kiyoomi says stiffly.

Shoyo absently licks his lips in anticipation. Kiyoomi is the one he knows the least of. He’s, so far, been a mystery.

There is the faint sound of an adhesive bandage being pulled away from skin.

Shoyo is only given a moment to recognize that Kiyoomi takes the shape of night, midnight, before he is consumed by a wave of pheromones so strong that Shoyo loses sight of the other two men. It's heavy. Heavier than anything Shoyo has ever experienced.

Shoyo feels Atsumu gasp, a hand leaves his back, probably to cover Atsumu’s nose.

“Sorry, give me a second, it's hard to know the strength before I take the patch off.”

Shoyo feels like he's swimming through pitch black water. It should be scary. It should terrify him to be so thoroughly engulfed in an Alpha’s pheromones. But…it's Kiyoomi. And Kiyoomi isn't using them to sway Shoyo any kind of way. He could. He so easily could.

Kiyoomi has dominance, through scent alone. He could probably make Atsumu or Bokuto bend to his will. Yet…he was always the most careful with his scent. He never used it to his advantage.

The all consuming wave slowly fades to a lower, more tolerable level. It's still intense. Still easily overbears the other two alphas. But now Shoyo is connected to all three of them, rather than just one.

“Omi-” Atsumu says through his hand, “Are you-?”

“I'd rather not talk about it.” Kiyoomi cuts in.

With all of them leveled out, it's a surreal experience. The three alpha’s pheromones work alongside each other. Their scents should clash, they should sour, that's what people always said would happen…it's not like that at all.

It feels like a natural progression. He’ll sense Atsumu first, bright as the middle of the day, then Bokuto, easing in the darker edge that lead to night. Then, there is Kiyoomi, dark and endless. It cycles through each of them, again, and again, and again.

And Shoyo realizes. It's going to be like that for his whole heat. No matter what is happening, or what someone is doing to Shoyo, he's going to have their pheromones. No matter what, he's going to feel them. He shivers, fingers digging into Atsumu’s legs. It's going to be so different than anything he’s ever felt.

“How are you doing Sho?” Atsumu asks, his hand coming back to rub on Shoyo’s back. He purrs, letting his chest rumble in contentment. The alphas in the car respond in kind, their presence softening.

The gears turn in the back of his mind. He's home. Close to his nest. His body starts to flush hot again, his biology no longer holding back the force of his heat. He groans, pressing his face down into Atsumu’s leg…his leg. Shoyo inhales deeply. It feels like he’s swallowing sunshine itself. He breathes in again through both his mouth and nose. He nuzzles in closer, like his body automatically knows what it needs.

Atsumu groans, and gently pulls Shoyo’s face away from where he had been nuzzling, “Lets take you inside, yea?” His voice is strained. Like it's taking effort to talk. Shoyo nods. Inside. Nest. Safe. Inside.

This time Bokuto carries him, easily able to lift him from the car and up into his arms. Bokuto follows Kiyoomi up to the entryway. Kiyoomi halts at the door, even though Shoyo’s key is in his hand.

“Have either of you changed your mind? No shame in backing out,” Kiyoomi says through his mask.

Shoyo is tucked in Bokuto’s arms, his head resting on the other Spiker's shoulder. When he cracks his eyelids open he can see Atsumu behind Bokuto bringing up the rear. The blonde catches his eye and smiles, “Not a chance Omi, it's okay if you wanna go though.”

Shoyo hears Kiyoomi scoff, “And leave him with you two? Not a chance.”

Atsumu shrugs, a smile still on his face, “Let's get him inside then, I'm sure it doesn't feel good to be out in the open.”

It doesn't. But it feels strange that Atsumu knows that.

Shoyo listens to the door to his apartment click unlocked and open. Three alphas. In his apartment. His fingers dig into Bokuto’s shoulder. Three alphas…in his nest.

And that's when it starts to hit him. What is about to happen. His friends…his teammates…they're going to-

“Shoyo?” Atsumu steps up to Bokuto’s back, putting him level with Shoyo. Shoyo is shaking again. The constant alpha pheromones may have pushed off the pain…but it can't stop everything.

Atsumu bites on his bottom lip, eyes searching Shoyo’s face.

“Here,” Atsumu says, and gently guides Shoyo’s face so that his nose is directly over the slightly irritated skin where Bokuto’s patch had been.

The next breath Shoyo takes…it's peace. Atsumu cards fingers through his hair as Shoyo inhales again. It feels quiet, like before the crickets start chirping. Before the shadows grow too long and then disappear completely. Calm. Atsumu puts his other hand onto the hair on the back of Bokuto’s neck.

“Good job ‘ol boy,” Atsumu says with a smile, “Now take ‘im inside.”

It feels like just moments later that Shoyo is being gently placed in his nest. He buries his face into soft blankets and cool pillows. His skin is still sensitive, but these textures don't hurt. These textures are safe. He purrs, burrowing in deeper. His bed smells like him…but just faintly. With how overwhelmed he has been from Alpha, the smell of his bed is underwhelming. He needs more. It needs to feel safe. He starts to rub his cheeks and neck against anything he can reach, trying to get his nest to have the right smell. It's not working. He groans in frustration, fingers scratching at his neck. His fingernails find the edge of the patch and he rips it off. It's already been thrown to the floor by the time he hears Atsumu say, “Wait, Sho, don't do that yet-”

He's still busy trying to scent anything close by when he hears the other men groan.

“Jesus,” Bokuto grits out, taking a few steps back from Shoyo’s nest. Shoyo can sense where his Alphas are in the room. Especially now that he has his own scent to contrast them. He sighs, finally satisfied with how his space smells. Just in time too, because his pelvis and back are just starting to ache.

There is the sound of movement. Quick movement, and hushed voices. Shoyo looks up through lowly lidded eyes. He’s met with the sight of Bokuto, barely held back by Atsumu. His pupils are blown out to consume his whole iris, chest rising and falling rapidly. It looks like every muscle in his body is clenching…like he's helping Atsumu hold him back.

“Easy, easy,” Atsumu whispers in Bokuto’s ear. The setter is only slightly better off. His eyes are dark as well, cheeks rosy with flush. Kiyoomi stands just to the side, watching them both carefully. Something makes Shoyo keep his eyes on Kiyoomi. Maybe it's because he's the strongest one in the room. He's the one that will signal if things are dangerous. He's calm though, just watching, as if seeing if the two can control themselves.

Shoyo curls up in his nest, propping his head into a nearby pillow and just watches. He wonders if his scent doesn't affect Kiyoomi, or if Kiyoomi just has enough self control to ignore it.

His thighs absently rub together, like he just can't keep still. He glances down to see the dark patch on the front of his shorts. He’s never made it back to his nest this calm before. Usually it's hard fought and painful. Usually he's already crying as he forces his face into his nest, fingers reaching back to start opening himself up.

He can feel the edges of the pain returning. His body could only buy him so much time, but it ended up being enough time.

Bokuto breathes harshly and thrashes once in Atsumu’s grasp, a growl vibrating out of his chest. Atsumu growls back, right into Bokuto’s ear.

“Calm down,” Kiyoomi says, voice as level as ever. Bokuto’s head whips around to look at the dark haired spiker. He's about to bear his teeth and snarl, mouth already partially open, when he just…stops.

The sensation hits Shoyo a moment later. It's different…because it's not for Shoyo. For once in his life, an Alpha used a command, and it wasn't even for Shoyo.

Bokuto’s body strains against Atsumu, fighting for freedom, physically and mentally.

“If you fight it, I'll force you to leave.” Kiyoomi says coldly. “I'll give you one more chance,” Kiyoomi takes a breath and says, slightly kinder, “Bokuto, calm down.”

The moment in time pulls taunt, everyone unsure of what Bokuto will do.

Then, Bokuto deflates in Atsumu's arms. Shoyo watches in awe, as Bokuto slumps to the floor. His breathing slowly levels out until he sits back and puts his face in his hands.

“Fuck,” he groans, “I'm sorry, I wasn't ready, I couldn't control it-”

“It's okay,” Kiyoomi cuts him off, “It was strong, I saw how hard you tried.”

Bokuto takes in a ragged breath, face still obscured by his hands, “It's never felt like that before…like I truly couldn't stop.”

Atsumu steps close enough to put his fingers into Bokuto’s hair, “You didn't hurt him, look, you didn't even scare him.”

Bokuto’s hands move just enough for him to look up at Shoyo on the bed. Bokuto lets out a single sob before he buries his face again.

“I could have,” he says against his hands.

“I mean, I'm kinda starting to think that Kiyoomi wouldn't have ever let ya. Did he use a command on you Bo?”

Bokuto nods. Atsumu whistles, showing his amazement. “Damn, never would have pegged Kiyoomi as a dominant Alpha.”

Kiyoomi shoots him a look. Shoyo can nearly hear the way Omi’s pheromones want to egg Atsumu on, wanting to say ‘Yeah? What does a dominant Alpha look like then? Like a meat head? Like you or Bokuto?’

Shoyo giggles to himself, imagining the conversation. He hadn't expected Kiyoomi to be this way either. But it feels good. It feels so good to know that the strongest person in the room is looking out for Shoyo. Will protect Shoyo. Will fight for him.

Bokuto's hands drop to the floor, his face finally unobscured, “That felt awful,” he whispers.

“I'm sorry, I know commands can be unpleasant, it was that or restrain you further.”

“No,” Bokuto says, shaking his hand to dispel Kiyoomi’s sentiment, “It wasn't that, you made the right call, I wanted to be stopped,” his throat catches, “it was watching myself be dangerous…just feeling trapped inside as I watched myself act in ways I never would…”

Shoyo glances between Bokuto and Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi steps closer to Bokuto and crouches down to his level.

“How do you feel now?” Kiyoomi asks.

Bokuto shakes his head, like he's disappointed in himself, “I feel in control, but…”

Kiyoomi nods, as if he understands what remains unsaid. Shoyo’s eyes flutter closed, another wave of warmth running through his body. The aches are getting worse. More demanding. Shoyo’s fingers dig into the bedding surrounding his nest, the fabric twisting in his grasp. He can't help groaning as pain radiates out of him.

It aches in two different ways. There is the pain, but there is also the absence. If the pain dominated his behavior up until now, it's soon going to switch. He reaches his hand back, towards the waistband of his shorts, eyes opening just enough to look up at the three alphas across the room.

They got him here. Got him home safe. He winces, his muscles contracting against his will, searching for something to clench around. He’s vaguely aware of how he's slipping into the deeper parts of his brain. His fingers tips brush against the band of his shorts. His eyes travel from each of their faces, Atsumu, to Bokuto, to Kiyoomi. All of them are watching Shoyo.

They watch him like he’s a meal that’s about to bounce away into the forest. Maybe he is. Maybe he wants to be.

He slips his hand under the waistband, fingers curling into where he knows he's already soaking. He moans, his sensitive fingertips pressing around his eager and slick rim. He flexes his hips, pushing his ass higher up. He bites down on his lower lip, eyes drifting shut, as he plays with himself, not pushing in yet.

Shoyo’s hips start to rock, pushing back against his hand, and then down into the bed. He loses himself in it, chasing sensation and relief.

It's starting to feel suffocating. He needs. He needs more than just his own hand. He whines, pressing his face down into the bunched up blankets. Something inside of him itches…burns.

He's so caught up in it all, he bends his spine even more, putting himself on display. His index finger plays with the rim, for some reason he's hesitant. He’s always just jumped right in and got to work. He always just wanted this part of his life to be over. This time is different.

His eyelids crack open…he's hazy. He's really hazy. Still…there is something…something he wants…he remembers that his teammates are here. The three of them are still back by the doorway. Shoyo’s throat vocalizes, high pitched and needy. All of his teammates are watching him. Really, really watching him, each nearly perfectly still.

He writhes in his nest, grinding his ass back against his hesitant fingers. He watches Atsumu react, just barely, his body tightening. Like he's holding back.

What…what would it take to push them forwards? How needy would Shoyo need to get before they acted? Shoyo is vaguely aware of what he's doing, as he pushes his shorts down until one of his legs is free. He collapses back into his nest, bringing his fingers to his mouth. Covered in slick, nearly dripping, he pushes them past his lips. He sucks, tongue cleaning the digits.

Somebody groans.

Footsteps approach Shoyo’s nest.

Fingers still in his mouth, he looks up. Kiyoomi looks down at him. Shoyo glances straight ahead, to the front of Kiyoomi’s pants. The dark grey sweatpants don't leave much to imagine. Shoyo’s mouth waters, drool threatening to slip past his lips.

He wants. His lower back and pelvis have been aching to be filled for a while now…but now his throat longs too. Shoyo wants to be filled, every way possible.

He's about to take his fingers out of his mouth so that he can crawl forwards. He imagines how it would feel to press his face against Kiyoomi’s clothed, hard dick. How it would be to feel his pheromones there. Shoyo feels his mind go dizzy and simple at the idea. What if all he could smell was Kiyoomi’s raw desire?

“Shoyo,” Kiyoomi says gently. Shoyo looks up, properly up, at him.

“I need you to tell the truth,” it's a command, but only half of one. Like a strong suggestion. Kiyoomi isn't forcing Shoyo to tell the truth, he's creating a pocket of bravery to choose to tell the truth.

Shoyo removes his fingers from his mouth.

“Do you want any of us to leave?”

Shoyo looks at each of the men in the room, “No.”

Kiyoomi nods, “Do you want us to help you with your heat?”

Shoyo:s body burns hot. That's why they were waiting. For Shoyo…for Kiyoomi.

He does. He wants all of them. He wants to be filled and used until he’s thoroughly bred. It's never felt like this before.

Before this, heats were always endless pain. Frustration, guilt, hatred.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“May I enter your nest?” Kiyoomi asks next, making no moves forwards.

Shoyo has never felt particularly territorial about his nest…but he can feel the underlying potential to be. Shoyo thinks it would hurt to let in somebody he didn't trust. Like a defense mechanism. If you're not good enough for the nest, you're not good enough to mate with.

“Yes,” he says again, looking up at Kiyoomi, “You all can.”

Chapter Text

An unintended consequence of knowing that Kiyoomi is a dominant Alpha is how fucking mind bending it feels to willingly submit.

Kiyoomi, like this, is so much more than Shoyo ever could have imagined. And he hasn't even touched Shoyo yet.

Without even touching, Kiyoomi is everywhere. His presence fills the room in a thick smoke. A bloom of dark ink. Full, moonless night. It forces Shoyo away from everything else that might cloud his mind.

Shoyo feels stuck in overdrive, but rather than have his energy spiral out in all directions, it feels laser focused inwards. Shoyo feels like an echo chamber. Each little thing amplifies itself, again and again and again.

And the way Kiyoomi is talking, floods Shoyo’s Brian completely. His mind and body feels like it is endlessly accelerating beyond his control.

And God, how Atsumu kisses him- their lips flowing together, like a perfectly executed combo, without any practice. With Kiyoomi soaking the world beyond their bodies in inky night, Atsumu lights Shoyo up with scalding light from within. It's like he's inside of Shoyo.

Atsumu moans into the kiss, his fingers threading in Shoyo’s hair.

Shoyo gasps, the arousal, all around him, is inescapable. It's filling his brain with nothing but desire to be bred. How could he want anything else with three, built, responsible, and fucking dedicated Alphas in the room.

His spine bows off of the bed, the energy being forced through him from all of his teammates.

Their care, adoration, reverence…Shoyo drowns in it.

His legs kick, his body burning with oversensitivity - he needs to be fucked, now.

He's gasping for air while Atsumu continues to kiss him like he just can't get close enough. Like they're all drowning together. Maybe they are.

Shoyo blindly reaches out, his hand colliding with bodies, limbs, pillows. He needs a tether-

He choking back a sob- overwhelm suddenly overtaking him - his hand is caught in long, slender fingers. From touch alone, Shoyo can tell it is Kiyoomi.

His torso and hips squirm, desperate for relief. He feels a tug, like a nagging question in your mind. He can't piece together the question - everything is too jumbled -

The thought, ‘Do you want this?’ floats across his mind.

He squeezes Kiyoomi’s hand. Yes. Yes please, he thinks to himself. Please give me relief.

Kiyoomi’s voice cuts through space, “Bokuto,” everyone freezes, “mount him.”

The weak command ripples through the air. It could be ignored, especially by a fellow Alpha. Bokuto doesn't ignore it. He’s prying Shoyo’s legs open, like a man starved for his meal.

Shoyo moans, half yelping, right into Atsumu’s mouth as Bokuto pushes the head of his cock against Shoyo’s wet, dripping ass.

“Easy now,” Kiyoomi says under his breath. Shoyo can hear Bokuto panting, staying put with just the tip barely pushing against Shoyo’s clenching hole.

“You're his first,” Kiyoomi says quietly.

Bokuto whimpers, hands grasping Shoyo’s thigh and waist.

Shoyo’s stomach flips, his body twitching in anticipation. That is, until Atsumu growls directly into his mouth. Shoyo’s body flinches then, his mind instinctively trying to make him back away, but his back is against the bed, nowhere to go. He pushes against the bed anyway, trying to flex his hips to get space.

Shoyo's eyes are open now, the room dark, but not unintelligible. He watches Kiyoomi grab Atsumu by the back of the neck. Hard.

Atsumu goes rigid, his growl catching in his throat.

“If you want me to allow you anything, you will behave and share,” Kiyoomi hisses the words.

Atsumu is still as a statue above Shoyo for a few moments. Shoyo lays there, under him, legs still spread with Bokuto between them.

“Sorry,” Atsumu breathes against Shoyo’s lips.

Shoyo should be afraid. His body should have dumped enough adrenaline to have him shaking. He should be scrambling away from these out of control alphas.

But they're not…they're not out of control. In fact, they are on a very tight leash. And Kiyoomi hadn't even touched him, other than to hold his hand.

It should be fear ...it's not. It's pleasure. Shoyo needs them now. He needs to finish drowning in them all. He tilts his head up to keep kissing Atsumu. The setter hesitates but after a moment he starts kissing back.

Shoyo nods, unaware if anyone is even watching him. Yes, keep going, please.

He nods and spreads his legs wider, inviting Bokuto to continue. Bokuto and Atsumu don't immediately take the invitation. Shoyo is about to whine in frustration when Kiyoomi says,

“Go on, give our boy what he needs,”

Shoyo groans as Bokuto leans forward, starting to push his cockhead into Shoyo’s wet hole. Atsumu keeps him pinned down in the kiss, and black, sightless night rolls in until all Shoyo can feel is the pressure of his Alphas

Chapter Text

Bokuto is slowly sinking into him. It's so different than a toy. So much fucking better than a toy. He never could get the angle, or the pressure, or the speed right by himself.

It's just so different to have a body on top of you, forcing you open. Shoyo doesn't know how he survived ten years worth of solo heats.

He cries out, Bokuto feels endless. He's going slow enough to not hurt Shoyo, but the consequence is that it is feeling like there is an unending dick that Shoyo is being impaled on. Surely it will end? Surely there is an end? Right?

He feels urgent and needy, but it doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt whereas every single heat by himself has been agonizing and traumatic. It didn't have to be like that. He didn't have to endure it all alone.

He might always take solace in that fact that he can if he needs to. He chokes on more tears. He really doesn't want to need to.

Bokuto pauses, leaving Shoyo only partially filled. Atsumu pulls back from where he had been kissing along Shoyo’s jawline. Even with his eyes closed, Shoyo can tell that everyone is watching him.

“Crying,” Bokuto says sadly.

Atsumu, probably, starts to wipe away Shoyo’s tears from his cheeks.

“I'm sorry I growled at ya, I really am, it wasn't okay,” Atsumu whispers from closeby.

Shoyo shakes his head. He wants to say, no, it's not that, I'm crying because for the first fucking time in ten years, I'm not alone. I'm crying because of ten years worth of relief.

He can't talk though, between the crying and the heat, he just can't. He wants them to understand. It's not bad tears. It's just tears.

“I think,” for once Kiyoomi sounds uncertain, “I don't think that's it Atsumu.”

Shoyo's brain tries to process, to turn fast enough to understand what's happening.

“It doesn't feel like fear,” Kiyoomi says gently, “it feels more like…letting go.”

Shoyo’s eyes open, searching the dimly lit room for his Alpha. He finds Kiyoomi, and their hands join again. Dark, obsidian eyes watch him closely.

“Is that right Shoyo? Does it feel good to let go?”

Shoyo’s throat chokes as fresh tears spill out of his eyes.

Yes.

Yes.

He forces himself to nod, still actively crying. He wants to. He wants to let go and be taken care of. He wants to feel protected and wanted. He wants, for once, to not have to be his own only support.

“That's okay,” Kiyoomi says gently, caressing the fingers in his hand, “You can have that Shoyo, you can let go. I will watch out for you.”

Shoyo knows that Kiyoomi can. The dominant Alpha has proved several times that he can easily yank the leash if the other two fall out of line. But…to maintain that control, for Shoyo’s whole heat…can Kiyoomi do that?

“I won't participate, not until the very end, to complete the harem.” Fingers glide through Shoyo’s hair, soothing him physically, as Kiyoomi’s pheromone presence raises even higher.

Shoyo gasps. He truly doesn't know how strong Kiyoomi can go. It had been thick and intoxicating in the car…but here in his nest the level had stayed constant. Shoyo hadn't considered that Kiyoomi was holding it steady manually…that he could hold it steady at higher levels as well.

Shoyo feels the other two alphas go tense as their pheromones clash into Kiyoomi’s stronger ones. It only takes a moment for them to relax again.

In the dull emptiness of the moment, Shoyo's brain catches onto an idea. It's half formed, and ambiguous…but he wonders…if Kiyoomi is ‘cooking’ them in a way. Slowly amping up the heat, barely noticeable changes until they are in so deep…like a frog in the boiling water.

If Kiyoomi had come out right away at full strength…Bokuto and Atsumu would have challenged him…did already challenge him, even at the lower level. Can Kiyoomi get the other two alphas to endure a high concentration of his control, willingly, by amping it up just a little at a time?

What does it mean for two Alphas to be under his control like that? What does it mean for Shoyo?

So far, he has felt Kiyoomi presence, felt the intensity and deadly concentration of power. But…there was never a push behind the power. Never has the overwhelming presence forced Shoyo to do something, or feel something.

Shoyo didn't know that was something some Alphas could control…it's honestly a level of self control that Shoyo has never seen from an Alpha. It's something he's only seen in fellow Omegas, usually mothers, able to use their presence alone to sway one person but not another.

It's something Shoyo’s own mom would use, although extremely sparingly. He remembers the time his sister had ventured too close to a dangerous ledge. Shoyo had already noticed and was instinctively moving to catch her to pull her back before she stumbled over.

Shoyo remembers how it felt, the pressure to freeze and stop passing right by him to affect only his little sister. He felt it, but it didn't control him. She stopped and he continued to move forwards and grab her.

She, unaware of the danger, giggled and thrashed in his arms, suspecting that they were playing a game.

Shoyo, holding onto his sister, looked back at his mother. That is when Shoyo started to be in awe of Omegas. He continued to find moments in his childhood where he felt that awe. The power of an omega’s self control was an incredible thing. They didn't wield their power recklessly, everything was calculated.

So why is he getting that feeling now, from a dominant Alpha? It doesn't make any sense. Kiyoomi should be on the other end of the spectrum, dripping with unchallenged power…so why…why is it so safe?

Where in the fucking world did this Alpha, who should have had the perfect life handed to him, learn this level of self control?

Shoyo learned how to suppress and control from needing to cope with unbelievable pain. Shoyo glances up towards Kiyoomi, catching his eye.

Kiyoomi’s face is softer than Shoyo has ever seen it be before. Kiyoomi’s fingers slide through his hair, soothing the omega.

“I can do this,” Kiyoomi says, maintaining eye contact, “I promise.”

Even though it goes against everything he knows about Alphas, Shoyo trusts Kiyoomi. It's not a choice, not fully, it just feels implicit.

It's like Shoyo can feel that Kiyoomi is telling the truth. There isn't any persuasion, or manufactured force…it's just truth.

He lets his eyes close and he nods. He can let Kiyoomi take care of him. He can let Kiyoomi monitor the other two. He can let this feel good.

Kiyoomi must motion to Bokuto because he starts to apply pressure again, his length sinking further into Shoyo. Colors bloom behind Shoyo’s eyes. The sensation inside of him-it truly is incredible. How is he already so deep and there is still more to go? Atsumu goes back to kissing Shoyo’s jaw and neck, just adding to the overwhelming sensations. Shoyo feels the background vibration of Kiyoomi, right there, standing watch while Bokuto and Atsumu work Shoyo through his heat.

Atsumu scrapes his teeth against Shoyo’s throat before he latches on and sucks a mark right next to Shoyo’s scent gland.

Atsumu moans, teeth teasing the skin under his lips. Kiyoomi’s deep voice draws just enough of Shoyo’s attention.

“That's it Atsu, so good waiting your turn.”

Shoyo can viscerally feel how Atsumu melts under the praise. Maybe…there is an aspect to this that feels freeing for Atsumu and Bokuto as well.

Warmth blooms everywhere Atsumu touches him. His brain gets lost in the dry heat that Atsumu exudes, right up until Bokuto’s knot finally presses against Shoyo’s rim.

Holy fuck. It really is so much. Shoyo is pretty sure that he couldn't take it outside of heat. Bokuto stays still, letting Shoyo feel the fullness of him. Fingertips dig into Shoyo’s thigh when he clenches, feeling how little room there is. Shoyo has to consciously stay relaxed, otherwise it could start to hurt. He glances up and over Atsumu's blonde hair, to his teammate’s face. The face of his teammate, who has his knot pressed right up against Shoyo's ass. Bokuto.

His eyes, usually a soft brown, are dark as night. He’s staring straight down at Shoyo, intense and rigid. He’s kept still so far, but the control to do so seems hard fought. His muscles twitch with effort, betraying the difficulty of holding back.

And it dawns on Shoyo…Bokuto wants to fuck him.

And Shoyo wants that too.

He arches his neck, still enduring overstimulating kisses and marks from Atsumu. He looks up, further up the bed behind him, to Kiyoomi.

He wants Bokuto to fuck him. He needs it. He needs the relief. The connection.

Shoyo is aware of how Kiyoomi’s overwhelming presence parts momentarily, giving just enough breathing room.

Shoyo’s jaw works over soundless words. He wants…he needs…he…

“Should I let him?” Kiyoomi asks.

Shoyo's mouth opens, but of course no intelligible sounds come out. He nods, head tilting down into the bed, hoping that this is enough. The Kiyoomi will understand and trust.

Kiyoomi blinks slowly and nods once in understanding. When his dark and endless eyes reopen, they are clear and focused.

“Atsumu, come up here.”

Atsumu whines deep in his throat, gives one last little nip, and crawls over Shoyo to join Kiyoomi.

Shoyo tracks the movement as much as he can, as Kiyoomi’s thick haze settles back over him. He feels words and thoughts slip away, until all he feels is the stretch and warmth of Bokuto.

“Go ahead and properly mount him, gentle with his hips,” Kiyoomi’s voice vibrates through the room. Shoyo loses his breath as Bokuto starts to handle him, holding his thighs on either side, spreading his legs and angling them so that the back of his thighs rest against Bokuto’s bare chest. The Alpha is burning hot against Shoyo’s skin.

His knees rest on Bokuto’s shoulders, letting the larger man press fully down into Shoyo.

Bokuto adjusts his own knees, scooting forwards in a way that forces Shoyo’s body to fold in half, his ass curling up so that Bokuto can sink down directly into him. One hand finds Shoyo’s hip, pulling him downwards even closer.

Shoyo’s fingers dig in- he's not even sure what into…somebody's skin.

Bokuto’s body cages Shoyo in, nowhere for his thighs to go but into his own chest. It aches - he never did get the chance to stretch before practice.

But just like a good stretch, it feels so fucking good too. Shoyo…has certainly never gotten this angle by himself before…

Still, Bokuto refuses to move. He properly mounted, he adjusted Shoyo’s hips to make the stretch bearable…but he doesn't move beyond that.

Something hot…and wet lands on Shoyo’s cheek. It cools quickly, the sensation demanding attention from Shoyo’s overwrought body. It's how his mind comes to realize that the position puts Bokuto’s face right above Shoyo’s.

Bokuto breathes harshly through his mouth. His breath fans hot across Shoyo’s face. Another drop lands, starting Shoyo for a moment. Wh-where-?

Bokuto’s tongue roams over his teeth, highlighting pointed ends. Shoyo knows…never having slept with an Alpha before…he still, fundamentally, intrinsically understands the look of a man wanting to claim.

Instinct- intuition- call it what you want, Bokuto is thinking about biting Shoyo. There is a warning sensation in the base of his skull - uncontrollable Alpha.

Another drop, Shoyo realizes it's drool, lands on him, his chin this time. Bokuto lowers his mouth, his teeth finding the hard bone edge of Shoyo’s jaw. He feels the teeth scrape, gently flexing to pinch the edge of the jaw bone between his teeth.

Shoyo’s body, full and surrounded by Bokuto, anticipates the pain of a true bite. The puncture, stabbing pain, radiating out, making Shoyo belong to somebody.

“No,” Kiyoomi says firmly. Shoyo’s body twitches, reacting to the power imbued in the word. Someone told Alpha ‘No’.

Bokuto’s muscles clench. He becomes even heavier, his body pressing Shoyo firmly to the bed- Bokuto still so deep his knot rests against Shoyo’s ass.

Bokuto groans, teeth still gently pinching Shoyo’s jaw. Shoyo feels Bokuto shudder, body twitching and flexing sporadically.

Shoyo feels Bokuto’s teeth bite down just a fraction harder, his scent presence spiking.

Shoyo squeals, his body unable to resist reacting to the flare in pheromones from this close. Bokuto is fighting it. He's really fucking fighting it.

Shoyo’s world shifts to just the last few rays of evening light. No longer pitch black, and void…there are wispy clouds, slightly lighter than the sky itself. They shift, a touch darker now, nearly matching the sky behind perfectly. Invisible, momentarily, until they darken even further, contrasting just enough from the sky to be noticed. In tandem now, the clouds and sky continue to darken, until it is so void of light, that they once again join into one. Cloud and sky, imperceptible from each other.

Nothing but darkness. A droplet on his face. It pools, sliding down his cheek towards his neck. At some point Bokuto released his jaw and went back to hovering less than an inch above Shoyo.

In that time he continued to drool, still wanting, with everything in him, to bite Shoyo. Shoyo blinks, confused by the blur of skin directly in front of his eyes.

“Plea-” Bokuto’s raw voice harshly whispers the sound, “Please-”

Kiyoomi gives a short hum, “You think you deserve it?”

Bokuto gives a strangled sound in his throat. He swallows noisily, mouth working to swallow the overproduction of spit.

“No,” he says shakily.

Shoyo's chest constricts. He- Bokuto…why would he not…

“Don't deserve,” Bokuto whispers, his muscles shaking with strain.

“You're working so hard though,” Kiyoomi says slow and low in his chest, there is a note of pride in his voice when he says, “Look at you.”

Bokuto groans in discomfort.

“I see you,” Kiyoomi says gently, “I see how hard you're working.”

Bokuto whimpers.

“I'm barely holding you back, you're doing that. Look at how you fight to protect him,”

It kind of feels like Bokuto is going to fly apart above him. His energy vibrates down into Shoyo. It's…it's like Shoyo is feeling Kiyoomi through Bokuto. The words echoing through their joined bodies. Shoyo doesn't know if it's energy, or purely the pheromones being swapped back and forth. Shoyo doesn't know, Shoyo doesn't care - Is too overwhelmed to even try.

“Aren't you a good Alpha?”

Bokuto groans, his voice pitching higher indicating his distress.

“Aren't you a good Alpha?” Kiyoomi says more sternly. Bokuto gasps out, tucking his face into Shoyo's shoulder. His voice croaks, foretelling tears.

Shoyo feels the force. It presses down into the both of them. Through Bokuto and into Shoyo. It feels, almost like overflow, like Shoyo gets the sheer surplus of what Bokuto’s body can't handle. Even just that much, is overwhelming. Shoyo had never considered that the kind of power Kiyoomi has, could be used to force pleasure of this kind.

Shoyo never considered what it might be like to feel somebody force their way into your mind. Force their way in, with the intent of making you feel…whole.

Chapter Text

“Go-” Bokuto’s voice cuts out. He inhales, gathering the strength to try again.

“Guh-lpha” he slurs, his body lurching forwards to press down into Shoyo’s body.

Up until now Bokuto had been staying perfectly still, and fuck- how did Shoyo forget how good his dick feels when it's moving.

“Clearer, Bokuto,” Kiyoomi requests.

Bokuto sobs, hips snapping forwards, “Good. Alpha.” He bites out each word word, fighting a closing, crying throat.

“Good Alpha,” Kiyoomi murmurs back, encouraging Bokuto’s words, as well as actions.

Bokuto starts fucking into Shoyo harder, with more intent. It forces the air out of Shoyo, his body just the thing that happens to be under Bokuto.

His brain can only process the completely overwhelming push and pull, as Bokuto fucks in and out, hips hitting hard, Bokuto’s knot ramming again and again against his ass.

Based on Shoyo’s previous experiences, it's hard to believe that this is even a heat.

This is something else - something bigger than just pheromone fueled sex…surely this isn't what every omega’s heats feel like…right?

It's an unbearable notion…that while Shoyo was spending each month in agony, waiting for it to end, thinking about making it end…other people are just out here…getting their needs met…being cared for…feeling…whole.

No, surely not…

Shoyo wearily looks up at Bokuto’s face, each clash of their bodies, starting to encourage the knot to fit. Bokuto presses down, in longer and more forceful movements. Each press of their hips, Bokuto follows through, pushing against where Shoyo’s body resists.

Bokuto hasn't looked away. Watching. Protecting.

Keeping me safe, Shoyo thinks. All of them are keeping me safe.

It's surreal, his body, despite the stretch and force, and movement…his body relaxes. Like the dull pull of drowsiness, his pelvis finally relaxes and, as if Bokuto can sense the change, he slows. He keeps pushing down, applying more and more pressure. He’s going to. Shoyo is going to let him.

Bokuto grips the sheets, pulling his body even harder down towards the bed. He needs it. Bokuto needs it just as much as Shoyo.

It is a sensation akin to Bokuto forcibly releasing some of the pressure that is built up inside of Shoyo’s body.

The taunt resistance to the knot, slipping, receding and finally, fully loosening. Bokuto enters, his knot lodged right there, behind Shoyo’s tight clenching rim. The extra inch…maybe more, the width, pressing on Shoyo from the inside…the bodily lock keeping them together.

All the things that made Shoyo broken. All the chemicals and anatomy that kept him in pain. It's like, everything shifted, just enough, that Shoyo gets to momentarily feel what it would be like to have a body that worked how it was supposed to. It's a feeling he could get addicted to chasing.

Coming in at a close second, in terms of euphoric sensations, is Bokuto filling Shoyo with hot, thick, Alpha cum.

Bokuto laps at Shoyo’s neck and cheek as his cock keeps twitching and leaking. Bokuto seems so much less urgent, the demand to knot and lock over. They just get to enjoy the consequences of their actions now.

“Let him breathe,” Kiyoomi says gently. Bokuto immediately lifts his chest up and off of Shoyo’s body. He truly hasn't noticed that he wasn't breathing- he gasps involuntarily, filling his lungs. He spends a second, body automatically catching its breath.

He…he hadn't remembered the others. For quite a while now…he forgot they were even there.

Bokuto's cock twitches again, indicating that he's still, somehow, emptying into Shoyo. The sensation, coupled with the remembered knowledge that they were being watched….he squirms under Bokuto, unable to ignore how knowing Kiyoomi and Atsumu watched it all makes him feel hot all over again.

Alphas watching…just waiting their turn.

Shoyo had been in far too much pain, brain already half melted when he agreed to the harem. Although, he blushes, the memory of being in the floor in their lockeroom, he had done more than agree…he was begging for any and all of them to fuck him.

Either way, the state he was in, he hadn't been able to consider all of the consequences. Like this one…the one where he likes that Atsumu had to watch and wait his turn.

Bokuto nuzzles against every part of Shoyo that he can reach. Oh, Shoyo thinks belatedly, he's scenting me, marking me in this way instead of a bite.

Shoyo lies boneless as Bokuto scents him and then takes a turn rubbing his face against Shoyo’s gland, marking himself as well.

The fact that Bokuto would want Shoyo’s smell on him…is mind blowing in itself. When the large man, still locked inside of Shoyo, starts to purr, nose right up against his shoulder gland. Well…Shoyo can't really dispute that the alpha seems to like it.

Shoyo has only had very sparring chances to smell himself. Like, after a heat is finally over, if he leaves for the day, when he comes back to his room and nest, for a few seconds he can smell it. Overripe, sickeningly sweet…it's nauseating.

He's glad that after just a few moments his body starts to tune himself out again. If he had to smell himself all the time…he can't even think about that.

Bokuto shifts his torso, lowering one shoulder towards Shoyo’s face. Oh.

He smiles, tightening his grip around Bokuto’s biceps, and closes the distance. With his nose right up against Bokuto’s shoulder gland, he inhales.

Any thoughts of his own scent are knocked out of this plane of reality, as Bokuto, calm and sturdy now, floods through Shoyo’s body. It's so peaceful. A peace Shoyo has not really ever felt before.

During the knotting and orgasm, it felt so right, so true, but it was dialed up to the maximum intensity. It felt like it could, if skewed in the wrong direction, have the potential to tear Shoyo apart from the inside.

This…is just pure satisfaction. No intensity or drive behind it. Just…them. Shoyo has no concept of how long they spend like that, faces tucked into each other’s neck, breathing in the pure, unfiltered, post knot pheromones that each of their bodies are producing.

Shoyo doesn't know, and he couldn't care. He floats on the wave of pure, authentic satisfaction. It's indisputable - Shoyo feels how real it is. It's not Bokuto telling Shoyo he feels good. It's Shoyo knowing, intimately, how good he feels.

That's why he doesn't realize that at some point it turned into Shoyo purring. He’s never, ever been one to do this…even in the comfort and safety of his nest when he's alone. But today, it seems like it's just coming out of him. Like it feels so good it is overflowing and coming out in these other ways.

Bokuto kisses the gland under his nose. It's so sensitive, Shoyo squirms, still holding on to Bokuto’s arms. Bokuto kisses it again, wetter, with tongue. Shoyo can't deny that it feels fucking amazing. His pheromones must carry the pleasure he is feeling, because a moment later Bokuto groans, his own arousal spiking.

They are still very much locked together. It doesn't feel like Bokuto has gotten any smaller or easier to manage, still locked deep inside Shoyo’s body.

Shoyo clenches, confirming for himself that Bokuto is just as firm and hard as ever. Bokuto flinches, his heady, evening presence returning in full force. They both transition from the satisfaction and high of knotting, back into Shoyo’s needy body.

Shoyo shifts his hips, as much as he can, still pressed tight against Bokuto. Even just that little movement, is electric, sending sparks up and through his body. Holy fuck. Yes…it feels amazing when Bokuto moves…but something about having his dick trapped there, while Shoyo enjoys it…it's fucking incredible.

Shoyo clenches down, even more purposeful this time. Bokuto whimpers, face still tucked into Shoyo’s shoulder.

Shoyo reaches up to Bokuto's back, and pulls him down so that their chests are against each other. Having caught his breath, he can handle the pressure again. And…maybe he wouldn't admit it aloud, but feeling someone hold him down like this…is fueling some deep need inside of him.

He doesn't have the bravery to think about why, not right now, not when it feels so fucking good.

He just focuses on how he can feel Bokuto everywhere. It's more than just the physical space Bokuto takes up. Shoyo swears the sensations go all the way up to his throat. It feels like Bokuto is filling him everywhere. Maybe it's the pheromones, and the heat drunk brain, and the knot pulling at his rim every time they shift even a little.

Who fucking cares. Shoyo wants to feel Bokuto’s dick, like it's the only thing that actually exists. He wants everything else to fall away. He wants to just be the thing around Bokuto’s knot.

It's there- the potential to fall into that exact sensation, it's right there. But- Shoyo can't shake reality. He can't brush it off, or just forget about it. Not on his own.

He tries to look up to where Kiyoomi and Atsumu are. He can barely move under the giant Alpha pinning him down.

Kiyoomi had retracted his presence a while ago. It's been absent since Bokuto proved he could control himself enough to not bite.

Shoyo wants it back. He doesn't want to exist this fully anymore - not with how his heat is breathing down his neck again.

His skin starts to crawl, the sensitivity consuming his whole body. All the sweat…and spit…and cum…he's dirty. He's too dirty, they won't want him, he’s not good enough, he's not -

“Breathe for me Shoyo,” Kiyoomi says, no power behind the words.

Shoyo does anyway, thankful for how his body just listens in this state. He breathes, air filling his lungs and pushing against Bokuto’s firm chest.

“Do you want me back?” Kiyoomi asks.

How does he know? How does he always know exactly what Shoyo needs?

Shoyo nods, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Yes. He doesn't want to think anymore. He just wants to feel whatever it is that his Alphas want him to feel. Honestly, he just wants to be a vessel. He wants them to pour into him.

Black tendrils start to twist into Shoyo’s mind.

All the other times Kiyoomi’s presence filled the space, it was surrounding Shoyo’s body, cutting him off from anything else. Then, through Bokuto, he felt the overflow of how Kiyoomi was pushing into the other Alpha. Now, Kiyoomi is here, inside of him, filling him with a rich, overpowering energy.

“Just focus on what feels good, let yourself chase that feeling,” Kiyoomi’s voice says aloud.

Down the tunnel, Shoyo’s brain thinks absently. He nods, one final time, as Kiyoomi settles a new, different, haze over Shoyo’s mind. It doesn't compete with his heat…it amplified a single aspect of it. Desire. Selfish, self serving, desire.

All other channels close off - the ability to try and anticipate what others want from him - the ability to monitor his scent, to make sure it bearable for others - the vigilance of trying to stay safe, no matter where he is - everything becomes obscured and inaccessible within Shoyo. Everything but this. His own pleasure, his own wants, his own needs.

All he can do is follow the one tunnel left available. He clenches, letting himself feel exactly how Bokuto feels inside of him. It's incredible. Something drives him onwards. He keeps going, flexing his hips, the little that he can, figuring out how to clench close to the base, around Bokuto’s knot. The Alpha groans, the timber of his voice edging into a growl.

“Let him,” is all Kiyoomi says.

Bokuto slumps, letting his weight rest heavily on top of Shoyo. And then, Bokuto just lets him, grunting or groaning every once in a while as Shoyo pleasures himself on the dick locked inside of him.

There is no button on the underside of a toy that he can press to make the knot deflate. There is no option of pulling out. He's stuck here…he might as well enjoy it.

Shoyo never really let himself…or never really could even enjoy having a knot. He let it give his body the signal it needed, and always pulled out as soon as he could. It never ever felt like this, like he wanted every second of it.

With Kiyoomi narrowing Shoyo’s attention onto that singular sensation…Shoyo feels like he would let it go on forever if he could. He would lay here as long as the other Alphas let him-locked and bred.

For the first time in his life, Shoyo chases his own selfish pleasure. He lets his body roll and clench intuitively. No over thinking, no calculated choices…he lets his body act on instinct. His insides clench in an involuntary rhythm, his muscles rolling over the length of Bokuto, still hard and hot inside of Shoyo.

Bokuto moans and whimpers into Shoyo’s ear. Without realizing, Shoyo’s hands thread into Bokuto’s hair, caressing him, soothing him.

Bokuto nuzzles in deeper, his breath hot and frantic on Shoyo’s neck.

Such a good boy, Shoyo thinks, his body taking what it needs from his Alpha. Shoyo hears the way Bokuto’s fingers clench and pull at the sheets on either side of Shoyo’s head. His breathing grows more labored, and somehow, he starts to feel even harder and hotter inside of Shoyo.

Yes, Shoyo thinks, mind endlessly drowning in how his body clenches around Bokuto, extracting as much pleasure from being locked together as he can.

Yes he wants more. He wants Bokuto to fill him again. He wants everything the Alpha can give him.

Bokuto whines high in his throat, as if reacting to Shoyo’s personal thoughts.

“Shit,” Shoyo hears from above him. Atsumu…still watching, sitting still, like a good boy, by Kiyoomi’s side, waiting for his turn.

Waiting for Kiyoomi to give him a few feet of leash…

“Just sit Atsu,” Kiyoomi says calmly, “He is not meaning it for you.”

Shoyo can't make himself understand the meaning of their conversation. Bokuto mouths at his neck, whining constantly now, like he's being pushed to the edge of something. Like he is resisting…

Shoyo doesn't understand it until it's already happening. He pushes with his scent presence. It's not something he has ever willingly done before. Always the good omega, always stays in his lane, always keeps his scent under control, always suppressing to stay under an Alpha’s radar.

The gates finally smashed open, he lets his scent run wild. He senses movement up above him, and a commanding tone. Shoyo doesn't catch the words though because Bokuto’s reaction overpowers everything else. He’s grabbing Shoyo’s arms, pinning them down to the bed.

Yes, he thinks, keep going, show me. Show me your strength Alpha.

“Stay,” Bokuto says, releasing his hold on Shoyo’s arms. Shoyo, gladly stays, the command to remain where Bokuto left him, nearly feeling like an extension of Shoyo’s will. He forced Bokuto to act. He forced Bokuto to give into his Alpha instincts. Now Shoyo gets to reap the consequences.

“Omi-” Atsumu groans, his voice frustrated, bordering on angry.

Oh- that's what Atsumu and Kiyoomi had been reacting to. Shoyo isn't able to control who his pheromones effect. Kiyoomi seems to be able to ignore it…but Atsumu.

“You'll have your turn,” Kiyoomi says, no bend to his tone, “You'll have your turn to take care of him.”

Shoyo shivers, remembering that he still has two more Alphas to go. He can't even start to conceive of what being with Kiyoomi will be like…

Bokuto, seemingly satisfied with Shoyo's ability to keep his arms and hands where Bokuto left them, starts to grab and maneuver his legs. He’s anticipating that Bokuto will put him into the press again - but then his knees are pushed down until they nearly push down into the bed by each of his ears. The stretch burns, the position demanding that Shoyo’s body be even more accommodating.

If they had started with this, Shoyo couldn't have done it, but after being in the press…his hips have loosened up enough. Plus, Shoyo is pretty sure that Kiyoomi is partially keeping any pain at bay.

Shoyo hopes that Kiyoomi doesn't force Bokuto to ease up. He can do the stretch, although he will definitely be sore later. He was going to be sore no matter what, might as well be from this.

Bokuto keeps his large hands planted onto the backside of Shoyo’s thighs, effectively holding Shoyo down, while also holding Bokuto up. No longer chest to chest…Bokuto will have a lot more room to move…well…not really, they are still locked together after all. Shoyo glances down to where Bokuto’s pelvis is snug against his ass.

Bokuto uses the leverage he has against the back of Shoyo's thighs to grind his knot down into Shoyo.

Shoyo's head hits the bed, his skull pushing down into the bedding - holy fuck - he catches sight of Kiyoomi, upside down, an arm around Atsumu who sits by his side. Kiyoomi is gently petting Atsumu’s blonde hair, fingers trailing down into his undercut, and gently massaging the setter’s neck.

Atsumu stares right into Shoyo. It makes Shoyo’s heart hammer faster in his chest. After Bokuto is done…Atsumu is going to fuck him next.

Just passed from one alpha to another…

Shoyo’s glaze flicks back to Kiyoomi, the true Alpha of this whole thing. The one keeping everyone safe and in line.

Kiyoomi smiles gently, like he understands something. He nods to Shoyo just as Bokuto grinds down again, twisting his hips so that the angle of the knot shifts.

Shoyo grabs at the sheets up above his head, unwilling for some reason to look away from Kiyoomi. It doesn't feel like a choice - more like Shoyo is caught in a magnetism he doesn't understand.

“You set this up,” Kiyoomi says quietly, “Go ahead and enjoy it, I'll watch.”

Oh. Shoyo was waiting for permission. He, by using his presence on Bokuto, had trespassed into Kiyoomi’s territory. Without realizing it, Shoyo started to be the one in control. He’s never been the one with control before…

But Kiyoomi says that what he did was okay, that he can let himself enjoy it.

Shoyo bites down on his bottom lip, noticing the way that Bokuto has stalled and slowed down, just barely pressing harder every few seconds.

Shoyo tips his head back to its normal position, watching the way Bokuto’s chest rises and falls, hips just barely moving.

Shoyo swallows, and starts to let down the walls he always has up. When Shoyo snapped back to reality, and started being able to process and think again, his automatic scent suppression instinct kicked back in. He had pulled back and released Bokuto from being overwhelmed.

Kiyoomi is going to watch. Both of them. Watch out for Shoyo, as well as Bokuto.

By this point in his life, scent suppression feels almost fully involuntary, like the beating of his heart. He forces it back down and lets his presence tell Bokuto what Shoyo wants.

Bokuto’s fingers dig into the flesh of his thighs, and the spiker pushes him down harder against the bed.

“Omega,” Bokuto rumbles deep in his throat.

Shoyo feels the responding wave of Bokuto’s own presence. It reeks of desire, and pure lust. ‘Breed’ it demands.

Bokuto forces himself deeper, his knot somehow feeling even bigger than before.

Shoyo’s body takes it, takes even more. He needs this. After so many fucking years, Shoyo needs this. He needs to be used and wanted and bred.

Have me he tries to say back, hoping that his untethered pheromones are readable. Fucking have me.

Bokuto does. He holds Shoyo pinned to the bed, unable to move other than thrashing his head from side to side. The one time Shoyo started to move a hand up to hold onto Bokuto the Alpha had snarled the command, “Stay.”

Shoyo stayed, feeling how his body didn't even have a choice. He couldn't fight it if he wanted to. And he doesn't want to. He wants Bokuto to position him and use him. He wants to feel like the perfect fucking thing. A toy. A vessel. Nothing else.

Shoyo’s arms stay trapped to the bed, despite not a single thing holding them down. His legs stay spread and bent and Bokuto fucks him with the little bit the knot can move. It's fucking driving Shoyo wild. Being fucked with the centimeter of movement that is even possible, feeling the hard, hot knot pull back against his ass, threatening to try and pull out, before it forces back in.

The whole time, drowning in Bokuto's pheromones. The edge of night, the disappearing day, rich and earthy. Like nature itself.

He can't help the way his body goes back to rhythmically clenching along the entire length of Bokuto's dick. Shoyo wants it- he wants it all - he wants to drain each of his Alphas until they have no more to give him. He wants to be full of each and every one…all mixed together inside of him. The beloved, wanted, and used omega.

Bokuto’s movements get harsher, his fingers dig in more, he's pressing even harder, forcing Shoyo’s knees into the bed.

Yes. Yes. Give it to me Alpha. Give me what I need-

“Omega,” Bokuto growls, the sound only feeding Shoyo’s desire.

Fill me Alpha, please fill me.

Shoyo’s body bows, arching up off the bed as Bokuto pheromones flood the air. He can't stay still any longer, the command overruled by the new sensations. Bokuto wants Shoyo to orgasm first. Or maybe Shoyo is demanding it of Bokuto. He doesn't know, he really doesn't know, all he feels is how his body escalates up and up, knot grinding deeper and deeper.

It's a frantic, urgent, almost terrifying feeling - how the air itself is convincing Shoyo’s body to orgasm on command.

He wails, his legs pushing back against Bokuto’s firm hold. And for some reason, being held down, while he's forced full of energy, is what actually forces him over the edge. Bokuto held him down, and forced him to take it.

Shoyo’s voice- it's raw, something akin to a yell- as it rocks through his body. The pheromones, the knot, the sensations, the pressure downwards, pulling his orgasm along when it normally would have ended. His fingers find something and grab tight, his nails digging in as his brain breaks open.

“Good omega,” Bokuto pants above him. Bokuto starts to fuck his knot in as fast as he can, just little jerks of his hips, but it's enough. Just when Shoyo felt like maybe his orgasm had crested and he'd be brought back, Bokuto starts to come.

Bokuto plants himself deep, growling loudly as he forces his cum into Shoyo. It's still so much, maybe more than the first time.

Shoyo’s body shakes, overwhelmed by the pleasure traveling through him. It's so much. He’s struggling to breathe, only getting short, awkward inhales. He barely even cares, or notices. Nothing matters as long as Bokuto keeps pushing him down and filling him.

Shoyo feels each kick and jump of Bokuto’s cock. It's so much, it's so much, his throat catches on the next breath. He’s - darkness pulls at his mind - a drowsy, heavy state folds over him. He - he’s - he’s gonna -

…

Bokuto watches Shoyo collapse onto the bed. He blinks, mind half wild with adrenaline and desire. He’s been delirious on Shoyo’s pleasure…and then it's just gone. Shoyo lies still, body relaxes, even breaths raising his chest up and then down.

Did…did Shoyo pass out? Bokuto feels panic rise up in his stomach and he looks up to find Kiyoomi.

“It's okay,” Kiyoomi says, voice strong, “You did good Bokuto, so good Shoyo couldn't get himself to breathe.”

Oh. Bokuto looks down at Shoyo, who is breathing fine now. Kiyoomi helped him to breathe before he got hurt.

Bokuto sighs, the panic of seeing Shoyo collapse quickly brought his real brain back online. Holy shit. Bokuto has fucked before…but never like that.

Bokuto leans over Shoyo and kisses his face, gently licking up the sweat and tears on his cheeks. He nuzzles his face against Shoyo’s. He misses him. He wonders when Shoyo will wake up.

Chapter Text

Shoyo’s mind starts to gently awaken, thoughts and sensations becoming clearer. Shoyo's face feels warm, his whole body is really warm.

Shoyo’s body doesn't feel comfortable. He feels…he inhales quickly, his eyes flying open. With his disorder, it's not unheard of for Shoyo to pass out during a heat. But this time it felt different. This time, when he came to, he had three alphas in bed with him.

It takes too long for his brain to supply the reason why they are there and his entire body gets dumped with adrenaline. Cold shocks streak down his back. It feels like his brain literally melts away, sliding down past his throat, under his lungs…

“Don't move,” Kiyoomi says quickly. Shoyo's eyes flash to the dark haired spiker, up above him. Kiyoomi finds his eyes, never once looking away.

The air crackles between them, their eyes locked onto each other.

Somehow, Shoyo knows, even in his base animal brain, that Kiyoomi is the most threatening challenger.

“The power, it's your,” Kiyoomi says, his hands raised up slightly in surrender, “You tell me, I'll make them do it.”

Shoyo keeps staring. An alpha, giving up power?

When 30 seconds pass and nobody moves a muscle, Shoyo starts to relax. And as soon as he takes that first deeper breath, he feels the memories flood back in. His teammates…

He lets out the air from his lungs and lays down against the bed, closing his eyes. Just his teammates.

“Shoyo?” Kiyoomi asks nervously.

“Mm’ back” he murmurs into the bedding of his nest.

A hand tentatively touches his back and rubs it gently, “Before anything, bodily needs,” Kiyoomi says matter of fact.

Everyone groans.

“Bokuto, wash up and water, Atsumu, please find food, I'll wash Shoyo. Everyone bathroom.”

Bokuto and Atsumu awkwardly climb out of the bed and stumble towards the door.

Shoyo is pulled into Kiyoomi’s arms, sweat, cum, and all. They rest there for a moment. Shoyo lets his body be held as he tries to piece together all the events leading up to here.

The locker room, the car, Bokuto…the knot…demanding more…passing out.

Shoyo’s face burns red as he keeps remembering more.

“You really do have the control,” Kiyoomi says quietly.

Without fully understanding why, Shoyo believes him.

“Do you…” Kiyoomi swallows, “regret any of that?”

What? Shoyo shakes his head urgently, “No, no, it was perfect,” Shoyo takes a breath, “more perfect than I ever thought possible.”

“Okay,” Kiyoomi says shakily. Shoyo looks up. Where did all of that self confidence go? Shoyo looks into Kiyoomi’s wide, wary eyes. Oh dear Lord.

Shoyo leans forward and wraps his arms around Kiyoomi’s neck, “Did perfect Omi, made me feel so good, so safe.”

Kiyoomi gives a short, unbelieving huff of a laugh. Shoyo grabs him by the cheeks, palms flat against Kiyoomi’s face. Shoyo eagerly searches for the right words. How can he make Kiyoomi understand the magnitude of what he just did? How can Shoyo make him see how he showed up and made good calls, every, single, time?

Words fail him. Nothing can match the intensity of what just happened. He curls his hand around the back of Kiyoomi’s head, and pulls him towards Shoyo’s scent gland. Kiyoomi resists for a moment, but ultimately lets himself be moved.

Shoyo closes his eyes and focuses on the memories. He tries to focus on that specific feeling, the safety, the trust, the…love.

Something like love. Something pure. A truth. Shoyo doesn't know what to call it. But it's there. He focuses on it, whatever it is, and hopes that Kiyoomi can sense it too.

Kiyoomi breathes deeply, his voice wet with coming tears when he whispers, “Shoyo,” into his neck.

“It really was all perfect,” Shoyo whispers, “All of it, I didn't ever feel scared, except for when I came to,”

“I didn't think about the consequence that you would have to wake up, I'm sorry,”

What the hell is Kiyoomi apologizing for? Letting Shoyo pass out? Like he had a hand in-

Holy shit. Did he? “Omi…did you-?” Shoyo isn't quite sure how to even ask.

“The option was there, you were eventually going to anyway, if you kept not breathing, and it was that or stop you both and I just knew stopping Bokuto might be traumatic in its own way- I - I'm sorry,”

Fuck, Omi thinks he did something wrong.

“No, Omi, I'm not mad, I'm honestly just impressed.”

This knowledge brings up the whole slew of unanswered questions. Like why Kiyoomi hides his dominant status. Why doesn't he let himself reap the benefits of his birth status. How he came to have this level of self control…why he chose to take on dominating two other Alphas for Shoyo. Especially when he wanted to take Shoyo to the medic team.

“Really Omi, you did everything right.”

“Okay,” Kiyoomi says, a little more sure of himself.

“How long do you usually have between waves?” Kiyoomi asks.

Well, usually, like 5 minutes max at the beginning. Just enough time to pee and choke down water.

It's already been more than five minutes, and then there is the amount of time he was unconscious…he doesn't actually know how long it was.

“Usually already here by now, 5 or so minutes.” Shoyo feels ashamed admitting it. The trope of a ‘needy’ omega exists for a reason. It's something you overhear, or see in anonymous comments online.

“Bet he only gives you a minute before he’s drooling for cock again.” type sentiments. A short refractory period between waves…basically corresponds to being a whiny, needy, bitch.

“Let's wash you up then, before you get uncomfortable.” Kiyoomi suggests.

Shoyo nods, his stomach weighing heavy now. He’s not so sure about this suddenly. He realizes that Atsumu and Bokuto are going to come back, probably expecting him to not already be…in heat again. They'll be disappointed. They'll know that he's not a good or worthy omega. Just needy trash.

Kiyoomi pulls him close, kissing the top of his head, “Shoyo, I can feel you dropping, what are you telling yourself?”

Of course he knows. He sees straight through Shoyo’s scent. At times, it felt like Kiyoomi could read his mind.

“Doesn't take me long, huh?” Shoyo scoffs out the words.

It's Kiyoomi’s turn to hold him by the cheeks.

“It's not a reflection of you.” The words burn.

“You're so much more than what biology decides.”

Yeah, but thinking that doesn't change a God damn thing. Believing that he’s more than his biological shortcomings, doesn't change a God. Damn. Thing.

“Neither does hating yourself for it.” Kiyoomi says plainly.

Shoyo’s eyes burn and blur. Sometimes it does. Sometimes this is the only way he survives.

Kiyoomi leans forwards and presses their foreheads together. It is hard to understand how this is the same Kiyoomi that grabbed Atsumu by the back of the neck…or who could make Bokuto freeze on command.

This version, this shy, unsure, yet still deeply caring person is the Kiyoomi that Shoyo knows. It is dominant Kiyoomi who is new and perplexing.

Somehow, Kiyoomi has retracted his presence completely. Shoyo can't even get a hint of the man. How? How the fuck does he control his scent like that? A scentless alpha who doesn't have a patch on? Unheard of.

Shoyo adjusts and lays his head on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. He inhales. Truly, nothing. Apparently his tight leash applies to himself too. Which, after thinking about it for more than 5 seconds, yeah, Kiyoomi has always run himself like a tight ship.

Which really makes Shoyo wonder why Omi agreed to this at all. Bedding an omega in heat…your coworker at that…it's less than tidy.

“Why’d you decide not to just report me?” Shoyo whispers.

Kiyoomi helps pull Shoyo up into his lap, making the cuddle a bit more comfortable. Despite all that big talk about cleaning up and hydrating…Kiyoomi is sure letting Shoyo set the pace.

“Something about how your presence felt in the locker room,” Kiyoomi says quietly, “It was familiar.”

What did? The heat? The desperation?

Shoyo stays quiet in the hopes that Kiyoomi will elaborate. He doesn't.

Shoyo still has so many questions. About his self control…about his choices…about this mystery familiar feeling. He can tell that they are nearly out of time.

Perhaps Shoyo will just have to wait to find out. He feels his skin start to prickle as if breaks out in sweat. He swallows, his throat feeling thick.

“Let me clean you up,” Kiyoomi says, his voice plain and void of command, just a personal request, “let me make sure your body is taken care of.”

Shoyo's back breaks out in a chill, the heat induced sweat hitting the air and cooling him.

He nods into Omi’s shoulder. He nods yes, but all he can think about is how he wants to start grinding down onto the lap in front of him. He wants to feel Kiyoomi.

He fantasizes about pulling Kiyoomi out, and rubbing their cocks together. It's embarrassing, but it's a fantasy that Shoyo often finds himself thinking about. And now he really has someone in front of him.

It's seen as submissive, in a way that most Alphas don't like. At least, that's how society treats it. Porn where a male omega is on top, grinding them together is seen as…different. People must like it, because there is porn of it…but it's always framed as…kind of off. Fetishized.

Shoyo has always liked the idea though…watching his smaller cock press against an Alpha’s…Kiyoomi's…probably quite significant one…a shiver runs down his back again.

Omi’s warm voice is in his ear, as he puts his arms under Shoyo’s bottom, “Getting worked up?”

Shoyo feels blush color his face. Just because he can't smell Kiyoomi doesn't mean Omi can't sense him…and with how well Kiyoomi can read into his pheromones…

“Hold on,” Kiyoomi says gently before Shoyo is lifted up into strong arms. Now literally all of the Alphas have carried him at some point. It is definitely giving Shoyo some feelings….he's not sure he's ready to unpack those yet.

He holds on, as Kiyoomi easily carries him into the bathroom off of the bedroom. Shoyo hadn't expected company, he hadn't cleaned at all, he hadn't even considered this possibility…he hopes Kiyoomi isn't too disgusted. It's not terrible, but it's been a minute since he deep cleaned.

“I've got you, everything is okay,” Kiyoomi whispers, “tell me what you were thinking about, when you were fantasizing earlier.”

Shoyo feels the war in his mind. His anxiety doesn't want to just let go - but the idea of falling back into the fantasy…is quite tempting. Although, does Shoyo even have the courage to voice such a desire?

He hides his face into Kiyoomi's shoulder, and the alpha must be able to feel the embarrassment radiating off of him.

“If you tell me, maybe I can make it happen for you,” Kiyoomi says gently, putting Shoyo down to sit on the edge of the tub.

Shoyo’s body feels unmored when Kiyoomi sits back and their chests are no longer together. The new arrangement allows Kiyoomi to use his hands. He pets Shoyo’s cheeks, even though the red head refused to look up.

“Shoyo,” Kiyoomi whispers meaningfully, “Do you know how much I want to see your needs be met?”

The words make Shoyo's stomach clench. Why. Why would Kiyoomi want that? Why does Kiyoomi care like this?

This time, Kiyoomi does continue to talk when Shoyo stays silent.

“It feels like there is finally a place for my control to go,” Kiyoomi leans past Shoyo to turn on the water, keeping his hand under the stream until it finally runs warm.

“Would you like to be wiped down or fully bathed?”

Shoyo is still trying to process the previous statement, so it takes him a second to point to the drawer with washcloths. He's not sure his oversensitive body could handle a full bath, not in the middle of his heat. Maybe towards the end. Maybe.

Kiyoomi takes the cue and grabs a wash cloth from the drawer, wetting it under the warm water.

“Do you want to? Or should I?” Kiyoomi asks.

Shoyo takes in a big breath. He is starting to get confused. His body is shifting internally, and it's not conducive to thinking or processing.

After a few seconds of silence Kiyoomi asks another question, “Would you like me to decide?”

Shoyo’s eyes widen a bit, even though he keeps staring at the same spot on the floor. Oh…yeah…he does.

He looks up at Kiyoomi, braving the eye contact for just long enough to nod.

“Okay, I'll wipe you down then,” Kiyoomi diligently and gently wipes Shoyo’s whole body, using another cloth to dry him before his skin gets overwhelmed.

“It feels like you're slowly sinking under again,” Kiyoomi observes, gently wiping Shoyo’s hand and fingers.

Shoyo agrees. He can tell by how everything Kiyoomi does is bordering on overwhelming, but it's also sparking desire inside of him.

The tips of Omi’s fingers against his wrist, guiding Shoyo to flip his hand over. It all feels so intimate. So caring. So…

What Kiyoomi has said earlier echoes in Shoyo’s mind, “it feels like there is finally a place for my control to go,”.

Control. It is everything. Everything Shoyo does is a desperate attempt for control. Well, everything except this heat. Even though he gave up trying to control this heat, Kiyoomi has let him have control anyway. And for once, Shoyo doesn't have to fight for a scrap of it, it is fully and freely given.

When Shoyo had woken up, Kiyoomi said, “The power, it's yours. You tell me, and I'll make them do it.”

A life as an omega is not a life where you're ever freely given power.

To have any chance at all, you have to learn how to control yourself, and hope that it keeps you out of harm's way. At least, that's how it feels. Shoyo has known omegas who control themselves and still wind up hurt. Sometimes you can do everything right, and you'll still wind up near a predatory Alpha who doesn't see you as something worth respecting.

Shoyo doesn't know. He doesn't know if all the time he spent learning how to suppress himself was keeping him safe, or just making him small. He can never know what he might have dodged.

Here though, with Kiyoomi, the safety and power are freely given. Shoyo doesn't have to try and make himself a small and unnoticeable shape. He can be loud, he can be demanding…and nobody stops him.

In fact, Kiyoomi encouraged him. “You set this up,” Kiyoomi had said, “Go ahead and enjoy it, I'll watch.”

Shoyo didn't have to force himself to be anything. Kiyoomi gave him the power anyway. Bokuto and Atsumu gave him the power anyway. Shoyo, let himself have the power. Even though he hadn't jumped through hoops, even though he hadn't been the docile, needless, pleasant omega…

Oh. Shoyo’s body swallows, as he processes the fact that he needed. He forced his presence and made Bokuto meet his needs. Shoyo needed, and he wasn't punished for it.

He glances at Kiyoomi who is wringing out the washcloth. Does Kiyoomi even realize how rare that is? To let an omega want like that, outside of mated pairs…it's nearly taboo.

But…the only reason Shoyo even let himself want that much, to demand such things, is because he knew - he truly knew that Kiyoomi could stay impartial.

He knew that Kiyoomi could keep himself out of it, stay clear headed despite everything. And Kiyoomi was good on his word, he didn't let Shoyo pass out from lack of air, and he didn't let Bokuto bite.

Kiyoomi won't willingly let one of them get hurt. For the sake of everyone.

Shoyo just starts to wonder what it will be like when Kiyoomi is the one actually engaged in….Shoyo- but the man himself interrupts the thought.

“You're clean, well, clean as I can get you. How do you feel?”

Shoyo drags his gaze up to look at Kiyoomi. Apparently Shoyo had fallen into his own head for a while - and in that time his body had seriously heated up. His skin feels sun kissed - like it used to in Brazil.

He can still think, but barely. They've got a few minutes until he loses most of his higher order thinking completely. And for once, Shoyo isn't dreading it. He knows it will be okay.

Kiyoomi studies him, his eyes flicking back and forth between Shoyo’s own steady gaze. “You’re feeling it,” Kiyoomi says, more statement than question.

Shoyo licks his lips, watching Kiyoomi’s mouth move. Kiyoomi smiles gently, “Alright, water, and a little food. Then I'll get you set up with Atsumu.”

Atsumu. Atsu. Shoyo feels the memory of all the times he knew Atsumu was holding himself back as he waited his turn.

It's unfortunate that Kiyoomi is going to insist on the physical things, like water and food. But Shoyo knows he will get what he needs. He nods slowly, his eyes still watching Kiyoomi intently.

Omi opens his arms and Shoyo gladly reconnects them, chest to chest. He feels warm and safe and arms once again wrap around him to carry him back into the bedroom. The passage through the closed door opens brings back all the different mingling scents. Older smells of Bokuto and Shoyo’s sex…Kiyoomi's heady presence is heavy in the air. Its old though, the man still holding it all back without a patch.

There are fresher smells too, because Bokuto and Atsumu are both in the room already. Their scents are anxious and unsure. Shoyo’s neck prickles as he hones in on Atsumu specifically.

“He needs some food, did you two eat?”

Shoyo doesn't hear a response, but understands it is a yes when Kiyoomi says,

“Good, good job,” immediately the oppressive anxiety that had been clouding the room starts to fade, overlapped with newer notes of pride and satisfaction.

It's kind of amazing how Kiyoomi just knows how to handle them.

“Atsumu, will you please pick something for him to eat? Bokuto, bring some water?” It's phrased as a question. They all know it is not.

Shoyo is tucked into the headboard side of his nest. The intensity of pheromones here is overwhelming. Everything soaked into the fabrics of his nest. And Kiyoomi, coincidentally, put Shoyo in the spot where Atsumu had been sitting. It reeks of the man. It's incredible. He nuzzles against one of the pillows up here, finding Atsumu’s bright and dry scent imbued into the cloth itself.

He opens his mouth and breathes in deeply, letting the pheromones fill him from the inside. He temporarily falls into the warmth and safety of Atsumu’s scent until a soft hand lands on his shoulder. Shoyo glances up to see Kiyoomi looking back down at him.

Shoyo knows that he's already pretty far gone, unabashedly scenting against a pillow. He can't bring himself to care, not when it feels so good.

Kiyoomi helps guide Shoyo to sit up. It goes against everything inside of him which begs to lay back down and bask in the warm pheromones. He listens though, his desire to follow Kiyoomi’s lead overpowering his base instincts. Shoyo finds that he can't tear his eyes away from Kiyoomi 's face as the man is turned away to collect something from the other two alphas.

When Kiyoomi finally looks back at Shoyo and finds him staring, the dark haired spiker gives a small, shy smile before he glances away. He holds up a bottle of water, twisting off the top before he tilts it towards Shoyo.

Shoyo drinks, the water bottle had been in his fridge, and the cold water shocks through his body. He swears he can feel his stomach get colder as he finishes swallowing. He shivers, eyes closing momentarily.

Despite the amount he drank, his mouth still feels dry. He lightly grasps Kiyoomi’s bicep and leans forwards to drink more. Kiyoomi helps him, murmuring praise under this breath, “That's it, take what you need.”

Shoyo’s body flares hot, despite the cold water inside of the core of him. He glances up, and watches how intently Kiyoomi helps him drink. Shoyo leans back, and Kiyoomi tips the bottle up to avoid spilling.

“Good?” Kiyoomi asks. Shoyo nods, licking his lips.

Kiyoomi picks up something from the bed and starts to open the packaging. Shoyo gets lost in watching Kiyoomi’s fingers manipulate the material. Long, slender, strong fingers…one of Shoyo’s protein bars is revealed. Ah, food. Right.

Shoyo understands that it's important. Food is really the last thing on his mind though.

“It'll take just a moment,” Kiyoomi whispers.

Shoyo forces himself to nod, he knows. He knows that if he doesn't it'll be worse later. He’s done that to himself before.

Kiyoomi breaks pieces off, giving him a bit at a time, and helps him drink every few bites. It's nice. It's…really, really nice. Shoyo has never had someone wash him, and make sure he drank and ate…he’s never had anyone, except for that time he had to be hospitalized. And that was nothing like this.

Shoyo tries to shake off the memory. He’ll do almost anything to avoid that again.

“It's okay, we’ve got you,” Kiyoomi says gently, giving Shoyo the last piece of the bar.

Shoyo nods, eyes bleary with tears. He does feel had. He swallows the last bite and takes another drink of water.

Kiyoomi cups his cheek, leaning forwards to kiss his forehead gently. The gesture just makes Shoyo’s eyes fill more. So different. So different from anything Shoyo has had.

“Are you ready?” Kiyoomi sits back so that Shoyo can see him, although it's blearily, through his misty eyes.

Shoyo nods - it seems like that's all he can do by this point. The idea of first thinking of, and then conjuring words, seems physically impossible.

Kiyoomi looks at him a moment longer before he leans in towards Shoyo’s face. Shoyo’s stomach flips as he anticipates a kiss - Kiyoomi saddles his mouth alongside Shoyo’s ear.

“Do what you want, Shoyo. I'll keep watch over the both of you.”

Shoyo blinks, trying to understand the words. Do what he wants? Like he did with Bokuto? Force his presence?

“If you want something, maybe whatever it was you were fantasizing about earlier,” Kiyoomi’s warm breath fans against his ear and neck. A hint of what it might be like to have the man on top of him, telling him what to do…

“I want you to just do it. Do what feels right. Follow your instincts.”

Shoyo swallows. What Kiyoomi is describing is more purposeful than what Shoyo did to Bokuto. In that instance Shoyo just pushed and he let the pheromones drive Bokuto forwards. This is more specific…more…intentional.

“What was it you were fantasizing about?” Kiyoomi leaves that thought in Shoyo’s head, as he leans back and studies the red head.

The fantasy…climbing on top of an alpha and just…humping him. Pressing against each other. Like animals. Would Atsumu let him? Would his pride allow him to?

Shoyo isn't so sure…but then again…between Kiyoomi and Shoyo’s pheromones…

Kiyoomi smiles, a genuine smile, “There you go,” he turns and waves Atsumu closer. Both he and Bokuto had been hovering anxiously at the edge of the nest, unwilling to pass the threshold like Kiyoomi had.

“Come Atsu,” Kiyoomi says affectionately, “You've waited your turn.”

Atsumu whines, and hesitantly breaches the edge of the nest. He watches Shoyo, as his knee presses down into the pillows and blankets that had been pushed to the edge. He climbs in further, until he is sitting awkwardly on his knees next to Kiyoomi.

As Atsumu had closed the distance, the presence of his pheromones had increased. Shoyo closes his eyes and breathes deeply. It's a comforting and familiar scent. Long days in the sun, skin warm from heated sand, the sound of waves crashing further down the beach.

What Shoyo would have given to have someone he knew in Brazil. He made friends, he always seems to, wherever he goes. People comment on it, saying that he’s awfully social for an omega. It always bristled Shoyo…it's not like he is trying to be overly social…people just seem to like him.

Atsumu has never given him a hard time about it. Atsumu is that way too. He just seems to fit in most social situations. He doesn't seem to work too hard to keep a conversation going…it just kind of happens.

Did Shoyo cross the setter's mind in the years between their graduation and finding themselves on the same team? Back in Shoyo’s first year, Atsumu had called him out, said “One day I'll set for you.”

It has seemed utterly ridiculous at the time. Like, maybe, at a training camp, or something…but Shoyo couldn't have imagined they’d wind up on the same professional team.

That attention, the promise of someday, when he was just 15…to be here now at 20…it's kind of unbelievable.

Shoyo looks up at his setter. He’s breathing pretty heavily for how still he is sitting. When Shoyo looks closer he can see that Atsumu’s is shaking slightly with the effort of remaining still. What is he waiting for?

Shoyo’s gaze slides to Kiyoomi, who is just watching Shoyo curiously. Shoyo licks his lips. He's not sure why nobody is moving. While they wait though…his body isn't waiting at all. It's escalating, sinking deeper into his biological urges. His skin tingles, every texture and sensation so sensitive against his body. He’s glad he doesn't have clothes on. All he wants to feel is his nest, and an Alpha’s body.

Not just any alpha, Atsumu.

Shoyo swallows, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. If nobody makes a move, Shoyo might have to start working to relieve his own symptoms. He can only ache like this for so long. At least it doesn't hurt. Bokuto seemed to help a lot with that.

His fingers itch, wanting to do…something…anything. His tongue roams around the inside of his mouth, outlining his teeth and wetting his lips. Why isn't Atsumu moving? It's almost becoming an angry thought now. Why isn't Atsumu doing something.

In response the setter groans, leaning forwards but ultimately stopping himself.

“You can wait a little longer,” Kiyoomi comments dryly.

Shoyo hears their words, but all he can think about is what he needs to do to make his Alpha move. Does he need to lay himself out? Present? What? What will make Shoyo desirable enough for Atsumu?

“Please Omi, he needs it, he needs-” Atsumu cuts himself off, seemingly before he says the word ‘me’.

Shoyo doesn't understand. Atsumu knows what he needs. He knows Shoyo needs him. But still he sits there.

Frustrated, Shoyo shifts his hips, grinding against the air, body squirming in place. He’s so confused. Kiyoomi told him to take what he wanted. Atsumu is just sitting there, ignoring him…what do they want? Why aren't they taking? Their job is to take. He’s starting to actually get mad, the frustration boiling over into years of ignored rage.

All the alphas Shoyo has had to dodge and avoid for his whole teen and adult life…and then the ones he actually wants to make a move, are just. Fucking. Sitting. There.

He’s absently aware that his scent is spiking as anger starts to tint his heat. This happens more often than it doesn't. At a certain point, the rage has to be felt.

Shoyo snarls, body still writhing, wanting more. Wanting anything more than nothing.

“Omi-” Atsumu gasps.

“Let him figure it out,” Kiyoomi says back.

Shoyo starts to lose himself in fantasies. What he wants makes itself clear in Shoyo’s mind. He wants Atsumu to climb on top of Shoyo. He wants Atsumu to spend his time grinding his cock against Shoyo’s. He wants to hear praise-bordering on degradation. He wants to come, covering Atsumu in his useless cum. He wants Atsumu -

“I can't Omi, I can't, I can't,” Atsumu is biting the words out through his teeth.

Shoyo opens his eyes, just enough to see Atsumu in front of him, body trembling from the effort of holding back…or possibly of being held back. Is Kiyoomi holding him back? Now that Shoyo thinks about it, he’s feeling Kiyoomi’s presence everywhere. It's not overpowering Shoyo’s. It's more like they layered together, neither preventing the other's strength. Atsumu must be drowning.

Shoyo’s eyes blink as he shifts his gaze to Kiyoomi and then back to Atsumu. It looks like he's being tortured.

“I can't, I can't,” Atsumu whispers to himself.

“You can,” Kiyoomi says, his hand soothing and petting the back of Atsumu’s neck.

And Shoyo realizes that they are both waiting for him.

Kiyoomi was telling him this all along- since the bathroom. But Shoyo was not able to piece it together. A life, living as an omega, be obedient, but not too obedient…be pleasant, but not too pleasant…be social, don't lead alphas on…don't ask for too much, cover up your scent, be pretty, don't expect accomodations, stop complaining, don't expect decency from any alpha, don't ever forget how vulnerable you are…

In a lifetime of hearing that narrative, day in and day out…how was Shoyo supposed to realize that for once, somebody wants him to say what he needs?

“Come here,” Shoyo’s words come out quietly, but their effect fills the room completely.

Atsumu sags in relief and immediately climbs on his hands and knees up to where Shoyo is sitting.

Oh. Holy fuck.

Atsumu stops at Shoyo’s feet, nervously shifting his body. He doesn't know where to go…he needs Shoyo to tell him where to go.

Holy fuck…

Shoyo blinks at Atsumu - partially stunned into silence. Nobody has ever let Shoyo dictate how something was going to go. Even those who were safe and kind…still always assumed that Shoyo would do best with being told what to do.

Shoyo glances past Atsumu to Kiyoomi, who just smiles, shrugs his shoulders as if to say, it's up to you now. Kiyoomi calls Bokuto over to him and they both sit against the foot of the bed.

Bokuto gets comfortable and leans his head against Kiyoomi’s shoulder. Kiyoomi wraps an arm around the ace, “You gonna be good and just watch?” Kiyoomi asks.

“Mhmm,” Bokuto nods, his eyes lowly lidded. He must be tired.

Three alphas. And every single one of them is deferring to Shoyo. Letting him, more or less, run the show. And with two of them just watching, it does really kind of feel like a show.

Shoyo fixes his gaze back into Atsumu.
Well…let's see what Atsumu is willing to do.

Chapter Text

Shoyo’s body crawls with the feeling of…power. It's not something he’s ever been able to relish having... No wonder Alpha’s have big heads. Maybe it's the heat amplifying everything - who fucking knows - Jesus, Shoyo’s eyes feel like they are crawling along Atsumu’s body, noticing each part and facet that Shoyo wants to claim.

He wants to see his setter marked with his teeth. Blooming purple marks from Shoyo’s mouth. He wants pink, streaking marks down his back from Shoyo’s nails. He wants Atsumu to look owned.

Atsumu’s body shakes, his own nails digging into Shoyo’s thighs.

Shoyo had pointed to where he wanted Atsumu to sit. The man had gone, laying his body out like a feast for Shoyo. Atsumu looked up at him, through shy, lidded eyes, almost asking - an acknowledgement that these aren't the roles prescribed to them.

Atsumu will always be an alpha, he will always have a brain dominated by those chemicals. It will always be the lens through which Atsumu views the world. He is always going to be expected to act, provide, decide. Always vying for that edge, always seeking dominance. That won't change. And for Shoyo the same. He will always be socially underfoot, pressed into a corner that he doesn't deserve. He will never truly know what it feels to be freed of those constraints.

But, in this moment, maybe they can taste the other side. Atsumu can feel the freedom that comes with pure, safe, submission. And Shoyo can feel the fucking thrill of power.

And it fucking clicks - all of them, every single man in this room, has been submitting to Shoyo. Kiyoomi included. Kiyoomi especially.

Within the role as dominant Alpha…Kiyoomi was still under Shoyo. Nobody has spoken up against Shoyo. Nobody has challenged him, or tried to make him submit. Or….anything.

Shoyo laughs, hips grinding down into Atsumu. Their cocks, wet with slick, courtesy of Atsumu who complied gladly with the request. His face has been tomato red as used Shoyo slick to lube each of them up, and then finally, together in his broad hand.

Shoyo, for a moment, feels clear as a cloudless day. He keeps moving his body, watching with awe as Atsumu moans and shakes underneath him. He feels the heat, to the left, a wall of need and greed just centimeters away. It should feel scary, it isn't, the clarity doesn't sour like it sometimes can when you come to and feel that immediate shame.

He watches the tip of Atsumu’s cock start to bead white with precome. Shoyo can't let this end that quickly…he has no clue what Atsumu's refractory period is…and he's not willing to find out right now, not yet.

“Omi, don't let him come,”

“Ha?” Atsumu attempts to tilt his head up to face them.

“Can you do it?” Shoyo leans over Atsumu, further caging him in.

“I think so, at least a few times I could,”

“Wha-O-Omi- ng- ha, ha, Sho, Sho, wait, ya mean, ya -” Atsumu tilts his head back, moaning deeply as Shoyo fully presses their bodies together, sandwiching two slicked dicks together between their torsos.

“O-O- Omi - ya gotta let- me-me - fuck Sho, Sho~ I can't, I can't, I really can't, I hav'ta, I gotta, please, ha, please.

Shoyo can feel it, like everything inside of Atsumu is tightening, upwards, denser, harsher.

“O-mi-” Atsumu’s voice cracks when he draws out the vowel, as if in pain.

“You need to make it stop yourself, Atsu,” Kiyoomi says.

“I can't- I can't- it's too much, too much, i- fu- ha-na-”

His speech devolves completely, into short staccato sounds, until it's just little quiet puffs of air. Shoyo watches Atsumu pant with need - as Shoyo had been doing earlier. Is this the view Bokuto had of Shoyo? Is it what Kiyoomi had seen from further up the bed?

And somehow, Shoyo knows what to say, “Atsumu, just let it go.”

Atsumu takes in a deep breath, his hands grabbing and clawing at the nest around him. Upon exhaling, he melts into the bed. He breathes again, filling his lungs, body trembling slightly.

“Good boy,” Shoyo says, gently caressing Atsumu’s cheek. The setter whimpers quietly, body still shaking with unspent energy.

“Could you keep doing that,” Shoyo says into his ear, “until I come?” Shoyo sits back to watch his setter’s reaction.

Atsumu’s eyebrows pinch together, the anticipation of future pain and frustration evident. His mouth hangs open as he catches his breath, eyes staring ahead, glassy and sightless.

Shoyo wonders what wheels are turning in his setter’s head.

To hold off orgasming and deny the biological need…the fundamental desire to breed that comes with Alpha hormones…it goes against basic biology.

It goes against the need for control. The need to control one’s self, different than self control. Where omegas look inward, and find mastery of themselves, Alpha’s judge their sense of control by their ability to choose for themselves.

An alpha decides whether or not he gets to come. And let's face it, he's always going to pick coming.

Shoyo watches Atsumu struggle, his face grimacing further. Shoyo strokes the man’s cheek.

His chest aches with an unknown emotional pain. He watches Atsumu fight against his literal brain, searching for a way to have both. To be what Shoyo needs - without giving up his choice. His choice to orgasm, not his choice overall.

Maybe the ache comes from Shoyo already understanding that, no, you can't have both. You can't fill the role and keep yourself. You can do one, or neither, in some cases.

Shoyo wishes he could make Atsumu understand. It's okay if you're not ready. Shoyo wasn't given a choice, but when it can be one, it should be. Forcing yourself to fill a role for somebody…it should always be a choice.

Maybe the ache is Shoyo mourning that he never got that.

“It's okay, if you can't” Shoyo says. He feels his throat start to choke up a little, “it's okay if you can't,” He says again.

His stomach twists, eating up the words just as fast as Atsumu, who takes in deep heaving breaths.

“There is no penalty here,” Shoyo closes his eyes to the tears, “Nobody will think less of you.”

It's not…it's not like the rest of the world. This small pocket here, this nest with these people is different from what exists outside of these walls. Out there, you're not guaranteed anything - you can't carry an expectation or assumption that anything or anyone is safe.

Having woken up to three undressed alphas- knowing what they could have done while he was unconscious- makes Shoyo so certain that these men, together, are safe. He can't say for any less or more - but this, what they have, is balanced. Each of them is working to keep it as safe as they can. No ulterior agenda.

So Shoyo knows it's true when he says it, he knows it for Atsumu, as well as for himself.

“It's safe to let go.”

Atsumu glances up, from the corner of his eye. Shoyo tips his head down to rest against Atsumu’s.

‘There is finally a place for my control to go,’ he thinks, remembering when Kiyoomi had said that.

He kisses Atsumu’s cheek. Shoyo only wants the control if it truly is freely given. Only if it's what Atsumu wants too.

“Either way, you will be safe,” Shoyo nuzzles into Atsumu’s neck and shoulder. It really is okay if Atsumu can't- at this point he just really wants Atsumu, any form of Atsumu.

Maybe the ache is jealousy. Grief and jealousy scrambled until neither are fully recognisable.

Shoyo is losing the thread, it's all jumbling together. His clarity from earlier has faded, leaving a vague feeling of losing access to something important.

Atsumu looks up at him, and Jesus, his irises are completely consumed by his pupils.

“I-” Atsumu’s voice comes out so soft- like the air just barely caught his vocal cords, “I-I can’t-.”

And Shoyo understands. It is not because Atsumu doesn't want to, or physically can't, it's just not time yet. Shoyo isn't in a place where he can fully be there for Atsumu. Not like how Kiyoomi has been.

Shoyo understands. If Kiyoomi hadn't been that solid and unshakable - Shoyo wouldn't have felt able to either. It takes a certain amount of trust, in one’s self. Shoyo doesn't trust himself yet. He hasn't had time yet to develop that.

He caresses Atsumu's cheek, “thank you,” he whispers.

Maybe, in some ways, Atsumu isn't ready himself either. For whatever reason, it's okay.

It really is okay. Shoyo tells Atsumu as much, nuzzling against his check, neck, and ear.

“Can’t-” Atsumu strains in Shoyo’s grasp, “can't stop it-,”

Stop it? Shoyo’s brain fumbles through the answer. He thought Atsumu had been saying no- he wasn't-It was a half finished thought.

It's not that Atsumu ‘can't’...it's that he can't ‘stop it'.

Shoyo gets hit with the wall of need a second later. Atsumu- his presence rakes over Shoyo’s brain, nails digging in. Shoyo’s skin prickles, all along his back as his body dumps hormones in response.

They chemicals drip down through him. He watches Atsumu writhe below him, desperately rolling his hips for contact.

Needy.

Atsumu’s whines, grabbing at Shoyo’s hips, trying urgently to get him to move again.

Time somehow moves at half speed - but Shoyo’s thoughts are fast. Jesus fucking Christ he wants to hold down this Alpha and fuck him.

Atsumu chokes on his next breath, and Shoyo realizes just how strong his own presence is. Flooding the space, making Atsumu whine and bare his neck.

Shoyo’s eyes hone in on Atsumu's throat. His veins bulged over his pulse point. Shoyo swears he can see it move- his eyes flick to Atsumu’s who are dark and endless.

After a moment, Shoyo’s eyes return back to Atsumu’s neck. He feels his mouth water. Tongue teasing over the tip of his canine tooth.

Atsumu would be a good mate. He really would be. Always generous, always willing to listen and give honest feedback, always reliable and -of all the Alpha’s Shoyo had ever met- Atsumu is the only one who never made Shoyo feel condescended to.

Even the best, most honorable and self restrained Alphas, still always carry that edge - the unearned belief in earned dominance.

Shoyo never got that feeling from Atsumu. It always has felt like Atsumu sees Shoyo - all of him. Even in high school. Atsumu never simplified Shoyo into anything- never made assumptions, or implied lack of any kind.

How could Shoyo ask for a better mate than that? One who will never forget he’s always a full, real person.

All this to say, Shoyo wants to mate Atsumu. He feels it deep in his bones. He wants this man- in a way that defies understanding. He feels how his body and mind, each craves the connection. He wants to invade Atsumu- and feel the same in return.

He lowers his head. Feels how Atsumu’s fingers come back to life, grabbing at Shoyo’s hips. He watches Atsumu’s jaw tip up and down in a nod.

Shoyo bites down on his own tongue, sharp pointed canine pushing into his flesh. Jesus. He’s going to mate Atsumu.

Chapter Text

His jaw hurts with how hard it is clenching. His teeth grind down against each other. The need, Atsumu’s need, is almost all Shoyo can feel. His head swims as he forces his mouth to stay shut.

He can't. Not like this. Even though he can feel that Atsumu wants it too.

God he can feel how much Atsumu wants it- but he truly cannot risk it. He cannot pass that threshold while Atsumu is drowning in pheromones and submission.

He places his hand onto Atsumu's shoulder, letting his thumb gently run along his setter’s sensitive gland. The blonde whimpers, eyes closed and head still turned away. Shoyo puts his mouth behind Atsumu’s ear, kissing his neck and up into his hair. His other hand raising to gently hold Atsumu’s face - mostly to keep it in place.

Shoyo’s voice comes out deeper than he expected, his words clipped, making it evident how hard he’s working to talk at all.

“Fuck I want to mate you.”

Atsumu sucks in a breath as he stays still under Shoyo.

“Tomorrow, if you want it,” Shoyo nearly growls the words, “I'll make you mine.”

Shoyo’s heat solo lasts a minimum of 3 days - the first day is always the most excruciating. The second, Shoyo finally has some brain back, and the heat becomes more of a mental battle than a physical one. Day three, is usually spent trying to refuel and recover, his hormones still too elevated to leave the house.

A bad heat, which they all had started being towards the end there, lasts at least five days. A whole week- gone in his hormone fueled state.

Shoyo has no clue what the timeline of this one will be, it already feels like so much has changed in just a few hours. Was he really at morning practice earlier?

Atsumu’s voice gives a dry sob, and he tries to turn to face Shoyo.

The spiker applies more pressure, keeping Atsumu’s head turned to the side. He needs even just that extra little bit of room. If Atsumu looks into his eyes and begs now…Shoyo may have a large well of self control…but even that might not be enough.

“Tomorrow,” Shoyo says, “I promise.”

Atsumu fights him for another few seconds, hands coming up from Shoyo’s hips to land on his upper back and bicep.

Atsumu’s fingertips brush over Shoyo’s oversensitive skin. Teasing touches that spark something deep inside Shoyo. The light, brushing touches make Shoyo start to feel fucking insane. Like the sensation of something unknown tickling you- the need to brush it away, to scratch the itch, to do something rakes across his mind.

He grabs Atsumu’s arms and pins them down to the bed. He latches their hands together and keeps the setter down.

“Tomorrow.” Shoyo says with finality. He won't be mating Atsumu until he knows it is what the man wants and not just a bad choice caused by being drugged up on hormones.

Atsumu whines, hands momentarily fighting against Shoyo's, trying to break free of the constraint.

“Stay,” Shoyo growls into Atsumu's ear. Shoyo listens to Atsumu pant harshly as his body slowly relaxes against Shoyo and the bed.

“Good boy,” Shoyo whispers softly, nuzzling against the side of Atsumu’s face. Atsumu hums happily, despite how he had just been fighting for his hands back.

Shoyo could drown in this version of Atsumu. Shoyo can see a future where he does truly fall into Atsumu, letting himself act on urge- following the desire and need that Atsumu puts forth.

I'm going to wreck you, Shoyo thinks. Wreck you until you forget about anything other than pleasure and desire.

Atsumu flexes his hips, seeming to realize that although his hands are temporarily restrained, his legs have full freedom. He grinds up against Shoyo’s thigh, his cock wet enough to leave Shoyo’s leg wet too.

Shoyo wishes he could easily see, he bets Atsumu has been leaking this whole fucking time- just loving being put in his place. Loving being under Shoyo’s control.

Plus… “I want you to know what it feels like first,” Shoyo whispers in his ear, still nuzzling against his setter, “How it feels to let me use you, take everything I need-”

Shoyo’s focus is so narrow- purely paying attention to each and every thing Atsumu does. How he breathes, the pathetic little sounds his throat is making, how his body squirms and arches in search of more. All of it. Everything is immediate and real. No overthinking. No calculated choices. He lets himself act on instinct.

He can let himself act on instinct because he is so focused on Atsumu. Because his instinct is to hone in on the man under him. He doesn't want anything Atsumu doesn't want. And he can feel, with every breath he breathes he can feel how desperate Atsumu is to be used.

“I'm going to use you,” Shoyo breathes into the man's ear.

And the softly spoken, barely audible, “please,” from Atsumu's lips, sinks the final nail into their coffin.

“I'm going to-” Shoyo kisses down Atsumu’s neck, nipping with just the barest hints of a bite as he goes- “mark you up,” his teeth scrape over the column of Atsumu’s neck.

“Yes-” Atsumu breathes, his fingers clenching around Shoyo’s, but he doesn't try to break free.

Shoyo smiles and continues to kiss along Atsumu's neck until he reaches that spot he had been staring at earlier. Right over his pulse point, throbbing under his lips.

He feels nearly drunk on it all. So close to Atsumu’s gland- hearing the affirmation that yes, Atsumu wants to be marked- and then there is Shoyo’s own raw desire to claim the man under him.

His lips kiss and then latch onto that sensitive spot on Atsumu’s neck. It's not a claiming bite on his gland - but it's something that everyone will see - see that someone has already marked Atsumu as ‘theirs’.

He sucks, letting his teeth nip at the flesh. He wonders how easily Atsumu will bruise. He wonders how the setter will feel later when he looks at his body and sees all the places Shoyo's mouth has been.

Shoyo keeps the pressure on Atsumu’s skin until he literally cannot wait anymore. He gives a last little bite, just pressing his teeth against the skin without following through. He pulls his head back and looks down at his work.

His stomach drops as his eyes take in the bright red, already starting to mottle purple mark. It fuels something, or maybe breaks some last barrier within Shoyo. He releases Atsumu’s hands, instead using his own to hold Atsumu’s head in place. One hand on Atsumu’s exposed jaw, pressing down to keep his head pinned, the other burying into the setter’s hair, holding tight.

Shoyo growls the word ‘Mine’ as he dives back in, letting his mouth feast on Atsumu’s neck. The setter moans softly, his breath hitching anytime he feels Shoyo’s teeth. Atsumu keeps his hands where Shoyo left them, still adhering to when Shoyo told him to ‘stay’.

Shoyo’s mouth works over Atsumu’s neck, marking him up like a canvas. He turns Atsumu’s head to point the other direction and relishes the newly available unmarked skin.

Atsumu writhes under him, just the gentlest touch of Shoyo’s lips along his previously untouched throat seeming to overwhelm the man.

Shoyo wonders what it feels like for Atsu to give it up willingly. No life, society, or birth status, hitting you back to your side. Just, freedom and trust.

Actual choice in the matter. Submission by force - submission by choice. Two completely different worlds.

And now Shoyo gets to choose. He kisses up towards Atsumu’s ear, one hand holding the setter’s head in place. Shoyo could keep kissing and teasing him like this- possibly all night if he wanted.

Would Atsumu reach a point of frustration where he couldn't take it anymore? Would it trigger his innate need for control? Would he fight Shoyo for dominance?

Would Shoyo be able to put up a fight?

Would he want to?

At the moment, these all flit through Shoyo’s mind while almost all of his attention is directed at his mouth on Atsumu’s throat.

He opens his jaw, wrapping his mouth around the curve of Atsumu’s neck. His top and bottom teeth gently press into the thin skin of Atsumu’s neck. Shoyo isn't in danger of puncturing the scent gland- but the dominant effect is all the same. Shoyo holds Atsumu’s throat in his mouth, intense damage a second away if Shoyo chose to bite.

He feels Atsumu swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing against Shoyo’s bottom lip. Shoyo feels the almost insane way his mouth waters, like his body knows what lies under his teeth.

He increases the pressure, just a fraction, just enough to ensure that Atsumu feels it. Shoyo’s other hand is wrapped around the far side of Atsumu’s throat, bracing the man into Shoyo’s jaw.

And Atsumu, a powerful -intense as the sun- Alpha…takes it. He lies there, breathing shallowly, chest rising and falling quickly, while he lets Shoyo hold his safety in his mouth.

Shoyo isn't sure he’s ever felt so high. Winning points- well earned skills finally accomplished - kids, inspired, asking for their balls to be signed- post interview- post winning point…the sound of the ball hitting the ground, determining the direction of the tide, your hand still stinging from the impact…nothing, not even that, feels like this.

Shoyo growls, the surge inside of himself overflowing in a way he’s never done before. He’s never growled like this, just a pure rumbling from his chest. Never.

Somehow, Atsumu becomes even softer underneath him. Complete deference. Trust. Submission.

Shoyo’s tongue laves against Atsumu’s throat, against the pulse point trapped in his mouth, teeth just still barely pushing against fragile skin.

Atsumu whines, his body shaking slightly.

Shoyo hasn't closed his eyes, looking forwards at the bedding and blonde hair in his field of vision. It feels like he couldn't close his eyes if he wanted to. There is a part of him that drives him to stay vigilant. Atsumu is submitting, vulnerable…Shoyo will watch. Will make sure it stays safe.

Heat prickles at the back of his neck. He feels the eyes of the other two alphas on him, nearly completely forgotten at the other end of the bed.

Kiyoomi didn't interrupt at all…his presence mostly muted, just calming, likely for Bokuto’s sake.

Shoyo still needs. His body still craves more - needs to be used in ways that will trigger the heat to progress. It's awful when he can't get the heat progress…like a special, evil kind of torture, to be stuck wanting and needing with no relief.

He breathes out through his nose, his jaw aching to close. Atsumu wants it too. Shoyo can feel that well enough. Atsumu, hard against Shoyo’s thigh, wants just as much as Shoyo. The spiker isn't sure if it's just his own pheromones reflected through the setter…they are genuinely felt all the same.

The heat crawls down Shoyo’s back, seeping deeper into his skin. Atsumu takes in a shaking breath, his hands still resting idly up above his head.

“Yes-” Atsumu whispers, the sound loud in Shoyo’s ear, “-want it.”

Shoyo listens to Atsumu swallow, his lower jaw moving with the motion.

“Take it,” Atsumu says, “please.”

The fire inside of Shoyo fully rekindles. Heat and warms radiating from within him.

Well, who is Shoyo to deny such a needy, submissive Alpha?

Chapter Text

Shoyo doesn't want to remove his teeth from Atsumu's throat…he is also desperate for the ability to do more than just stay in that one spot.

Shoyo hasn't even gone farther than Atsumu’s neck…his mouth wets with more saliva. He wants to mark all of Atsumu.

With great effort he pulls his mouth off of his setter, his jaw aching as it closes. He keeps his lips there for a moment, pressed against Atsumu’s throat.

Atsumu begging…giving open ended pleas to be used…for Shoyo to use him.

“I want you to come inside of me,” Shoyo whispers, feeling how the air nearly vibrates with Atsumu’s desire.

“When I'm ready-” Shoyo adds, pressing a kiss to Atsumu's neck, “that means you have to wait, Atsu.”

He needs Atsumu to hold on until he is balls and knot deep inside of Shoyo. He needs all of it inside of him. He needs it. He can't let any get wasted.

“Kiyoomi will help you, if you get too close.” Shoyo nuzzles against Atsumu’s cheek, knowing how difficult a task he is giving his Alpha.

Shoyo kisses his cheek, raising his head enough to them gently, soothingly kiss his setter’s lips.

“Can you do that for me Atsu?”

Atsumu sighs-the sounds pitched towards a whine. He hesitates, but ultimately nods.

“Yeah?” Shoyo asks, giving him another soft kiss, “Gonna hold back for me? Gonna make sure I get everything?”

Shoyo, has never in his life understood the concept of a breeding kink. Previously he never would have entertained the idea of getting off on the idea that he wants to be knocked up- but fuck…all he wants is his Alphas to come inside of him - he wants, - he wants.

Oh. Ohhhh. Fuck.

Shoyo shifts down Atsumu’s body, raising his ass into the air a little. He kisses over Atsumu’s collar bone, letting his mouth finally start to explore Atsumu’s toned chest.

He lets his lips tease and trace around one of Atsumu’s nipples without actually touching it. The setter's chest arches up, seeking more.

“Will you?” Shoyo asks, his mouth open and breathing hotly onto Atsumu’s untouched nipple.

“Yes, yes,” Atsumu sighs, his eyes focused on Shoyo's lips.

“No matter what?” Shoyo goads, seeing how far gone Atsumu is. The man isn't in rut…but he might as well be, for how one track his mind is.

Atsumu's eyes flick up and meet Shoyo's. “I will - fer you.”

Shoyo smiles, “I know,” he reassures and finally lets his mouth start to explore Atsumu’s nipple. The man keens and tilts his head back, always keeping eyes on what Shoyo's mouth is doing.

So, if Shoyo wanted to be shared, and wanted to keep making Atsumu wait his turn…

He releases Atsumu's nipple from his mouth, letting his tongue flick against it one last time. The man shakes beneath him. But Atsumu’s pheromones doesn't give a single indication that he wants to stop.

No…all of their own, Atsumu’s pheromones beg. Shoyo wonders if this is what omega’s smell like in heat. Like pure, unfiltered need, visceral and real.

It makes Shoyo glad that Kiyoomi is here, a fellow Alpha more or less unaffected by Atsumu’s pheromones.

Because…Shoyo isn't sure he would be strong enough to deny Atsumu. Not when the setter's pure desire is clouding Shoyo’s lungs.

It all piles up, Atsumu’s feral lust, as well as Shoyo's own urgent needs. And- it's less, but Shoyo can feel the men behind him. Feel that although Bokuto has remained still, he is watching.

Shoyo spreads his knees apart, dipping his belly down and tilting his hips back, basically presenting for the stationary Alpha.

Bokuto’s scent spikes and it feels like Shoyo is being smothered. Drenched and submerged.

Yes. Shoyo forces himself to continue kissing down Atsumu's toned stomach. The muscles flinch and tense under Shoyo’s lips. Fuck it's addicting. The ways that Atsumu responds makes Shoyo want to push further. Wants to watch Atsumu break.

Shoyo’s lips brush along the slightly coarser hair at the edge of Atsumu’s happy trail. Fuck- the setter has been naked the whole time, but the descent definitely has Shoyo drooling. Like a trained beast, his mouth waters at the thought of what he will soon be doing.

He glances up to find Atsumu still watching him through nearly closed eyes, abdomen still tensing as Shoyo teases the taunt skin over Atsumu’s hip bone.

“Sho-” Atsumu sighs, eyes still tracking Shoyo’s every move, as he places his mouth, slightly open, to hover above where Atsumu is aching.

Shoyo tears himself away and glances down, considering how the hard member lies against Atsumu's pelvis. He licks his bottom lip mindlessly, imagining what he would look like with his lips stretched around…

“Ah, fuck,” Atsumu sounds desperate and devastated. The setter blinks dumbly, eyes a little wider now.

Apparently, Atsumu’s brain has finally caught up to the current situation. His setter's dumb, pheromone addled mind, hadn't put two and two together yet. Shoyo loves Atsumu, but when the man is this drunk on hormones, he is a little…slow. Apparently, this only endears Atsumu to Shoyo more. The spiker's chest feels warm as he watches realization dawn on Atsumu’s face.

“Yer-yer gonna…” Atsumu trails off, the awe in his voice isn't lost on anyone.

Shoyo can't quite explain how the reverent tone stirs something deep inside of his stomach. Like an itch that he didn't quite know yearned to be stretched.

Atsumu’s eyes are wide with appreciation, his hands still resting up above his head. Just laid out for Shoyo. He’s letting himself be laid out, just for Shoyo. Only for Shoyo. Because of Shoyo.

Shoyo smiles, honestly its more of a smirk. He doesn't want to intrude on the awe that Atsumu seems to be experiencing…but he just needs to see this new thought and consequence emotion flash over Atsumu’s face.

“Yeah,” Shoyo says, looking down with a critical look, really letting himself consider the hard, throbbing dick under his chin.

“And you don't get to come,” Shoyo reminds, dropping his face low enough that his bottom lip lightly drags over the edge of the dick head. Fuck, even from just the brief touch Shoyo can feel how hot Atsumu is. It makes him want to sink into it- down his mouth, heavy on his tongue, filling the space of his throat, warm and firm.

Or inside him in a completely different way, completely joined, knot keeping them locked together. The shape of Atsumu perfectly imprinting itself onto Shoyo’s insides. Straining not to come- but Shoyo is so fucking warm, and wet and tight.

It feels impossible close- how tightly Shoyo fits around Atsumu, how Atsumu makes the space for himself. Making Shoyo yield.

 

Fuck…all in good time. This heat…or maybe another. Shoyo has a feeling that they all will have a hard time letting go of this arrangement.

Shoyo slides his bottom lip along the long rigid shaft, again flexing his hips downward to present for Bokuto. Both. Shoyo wants both. Maybe it's selfish. But it feels fucking right.

And Christ…is it wrong to want both? To feel Bokuto crowding him in, keeping Shoyo pinned and full…while Shoyo makes Atsumu lose his mind in submission.

Is it too much to ask for control…and vulnerability?

Shoyo's eyes pinch shut at the thought.

Is it?

…Is it?

Tears overflow his eyes before he even realizes his eyes are starting to tear up.

…

Atsumu's eyes go wide, his hands rising from the bed to cradle Shoyo’s face. Thumbs wiping at the spiker's cheeks, to push the tears away.

“Sho,” Atsumu whispers, nuzzling into Shoyo’s cheek and shoulder. “Sho, it's okay, we've got you.”

A sob pushes out of Shoyo’s throat, and the man shrinks as he curls in on himself.

“No, no baby,” Atsumu whispers encouragingly. He halts Shoyo from compressing even smaller.

“It's yours,” Atsumu says into the spiker's ear. The words form hot sensation that curls around Shoyo’s ear and down into his core. “I'm yours,* the setter says breathlessly, “I want to feel all of you- this part of you.”

Atsumu shakes his head, as if unbelieving himself, “I'll stop ya, if it stops feeling right,”

Shoyo’s eyebrows furrow together, his mouth drawn downward.

“Let me feel ya,” Atsumu says lowly, mourning the words into Shoyo’s cheek, “please let me have ya,” he takes in a sharp breath, “Just like this, under ya, all yours.”

Atsumu can swear he can feel Shoyo’s heart beat hard against their touching chests. He is focused on the sensation when the room goes slow like syrup, Atsumu feels his mind sink into a comfortable simplicity.

Shoyo’s scent…it must be there, filling the room so fully that it should have the Aloha’s grinding their teeth in frustration and biological desire.

Atsumu can't detect the olfactory scent…but he can feel the effects. His body tingles with borrowed sensation. He can feel Shoyo’s pheromones buzzing inside of him. Zipping around Atsumu's body, like a darting fish of pleasure.

He gasps, mind melting under the oppressive weight of Shoyo’s desire.

“The begging,” Shoyo rasps from above Atsumu. The setter's eyes flash up, trying to catch his spiker's eye.

He finds his target and they look at each other for a moment.

“You want this?” Shoyo's voice comes out crisp and clear, with a clarity that defies Atsumu's understanding. Until a second later when his own mind clears, like parted waters, the fog relents and Atsumu can think.

Atsumu can feel the weight of desire and pheromones, just barely held to the side. His body isn't fully unaffected, pleasure still rolling through his abdomen. Apparently…his body can remain affected…even if Atsumu’s brain sobered up. Atsumu gets a glimpse of how it might look to fuck Shoyo outside of a heat or rut. To connect through sex in a way that is more mental than physical.

“Atsumu,” Shoyo says softly.

Atsumu’s brain rolls its way back to the present moment. Shoyo above him, asked a question…sobered up…sunk so deep into Shoyo’s pheromones that Atsumu felt like he could have lost himself in it forever..m.

The question.

‘You want this?’ from Shoyo’s uncharacteristically unsure voice.

Atsumu’s stomach twists, wondering why Shoyo is so unsure. How can he not know what a pleasure this is? How Atsumu might never find something that feels better than Shoyo’s partnership.

But then Atsumu remembers what Shoyo had said before his question.

‘The begging’ he had said, like he couldn't stand how the begging affected him.

Like Atsumu couldn't viscerally tell when Shoyo flooded the room with his desire.

Shoyo is weak when Atsumu begs.

“Yes,” Atsumu sighs, laying his hands back up above his head. The motion and subsequent submission, pulls on Atsumu to fall back under.

“Will you be good?” Shoyo’s voice has a little mocking edge now, “Tell me to stop?” He finishes more seriously.

Atsumu swallows, looking inwards at his remaining mental faculties. Enough to make it stop. And he will. For Shoyo, for himself. For the both of them.

“I will.”

“Good boy,” Shoyo says, kissing Atsumu’s lips gently. The fog of undetectable pheromones pulls Atsumu down under. Atsumu welcomes Shoyo’s overwhelming presence inside of himself.