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While kindness comes as a natural trait for Ken, it's an intentional choice that powers most of his decisions.
Daisuke, next to him. Appealing with a bare nape. Baby hairs dotted along are furling and unfurling with Ken’s heavy breath. Daisuke, who locks the door and turns his defenseless back to an Alpha in rut.
Ken practices his patience, stretches it thin and tangent enough to hold on a white-knuckled grip. Because Daisuke is stubborn when needed, and he's decided that it's the perfect time to put it in practice the first time Ken had entered his rut—and every single time after that.
Ken’s gone through this same performance enough times to know the script, the tune, two-stepping into what Daisuke allows him. Too much, if you'd ask him. Even now, Ken only feels a little guilty.
Ken curls around Daisuke’s back, feels him shudder in his grip but stays rooted in Ken’s embrace. The thick blanket around them traps Daisuke’s faint scent, where Ken can smell it best from his hair. Natural and earthen, something that keeps Ken tethered to the ground even as his head feels light enough to float off.
When Ken licks at the junction of Daisuke’s throat, down the lining of his shoulders, and sinks his teeth into his trapezius—Daisuke stifles his moan of pain into his palms.
“Not so hard,” Daisuke complains. He's shaking in Ken’s arms like a gentle reed.
“Sorry,” Ken says, and does it again.
Ken is thirteen when he had his first rut. Daisuke was there, and successfully inserted himself as his anchor. He's never cared to listen to lectures about secondary genders at school, being a Beta. He's genuine, selfless, and clumsy as he holds Ken’s hands and keeps him conscious. Daisuke listed off his worries, asking if he needed to call Ken’s parents. But Ken hadn't been able to form a single word in his mind, kept at a standstill as he assessed his whereabouts.
A bag of chips next to his arm. The last dying rays of sunset filtering through translucent curtains. Daisuke’s room. And it's Daisuke who's holding him, shouldering half of Ken’s weight on his chest. His small throat, exposed underneath the collar of his pajamas where Ken tucks himself into him, shifts at the words he says that Ken can't exactly understand from the ringing in his ears.
Ken, a young and inexperienced Alpha, salivates at sun-tanned skin and takes a bite. Daisuke is a good friend, and he's even got the Digimental to prove it, so when he'd realize that Ken seemed to calm as he licked the blood from the broken skin… He hadn't pushed him away.
He’d bitten into the tendon that strains and twists under his lips, but Daisuke had only thrown his head back with a noise of pain. And of course, that only spurred Ken further.
It became a tradition of sorts. Two times a year, Daisuke helps him out with his rut. Daisuke allows him to paw at his chest, to comfort him as he whines after Ken bites into his skin too hard, to accompany him even when Ken is too clingy. When he sticks his hands under his clothes as he inhales a scent he's tasted countless times.
Ken wonders how Daisuke is ever gonna manage to get a girlfriend with how Ken’s teeth, every fang and molar and pre-molar before that, carves scars into his body like a brand. He has half the mind to feel guilty.
It never works. Guilt is easily crushed by the weight of the fire in his veins, drowned out in a haze of desire that leaves an empty concave in the middle of his chest. Ken likes to think of himself too sophisticated and proper to lose himself to instinct, but he's only reeled himself in long enough to have not enjoyed himself in Daisuke’s virginity. You win some, you lose some.
Ken mouths at the back of his neck. The salt of sweat tastes almost sweet. A thick taste that weighs on his tongue, sharp before it's broken down to a sugary aftertaste. In the earlier days of his youth, Ken remembers the taste of Mimosa that struck him as his first lick of alcohol. Daisuke’s scent, wooden and wet with rain, gifts him the very same buzz tingling up every neuron in his brain.
“There again?” Daisuke sighs.
Ken hums. He parts his lips, and lays his dental history for the umpteenth time on the area where Daisuke’s scent leaks best, where if he were an Omega, Ken would've already bonded their souls too many years ago.
He would have claimed him.
It's not some wistful thinking, however. If Daisuke were an Omega, Ken wouldn't have the privileges he loves to take advantage of; it would be especially socially unacceptable than it already is for Ken to openly rub his scent glands on an unknowing Daisuke’s skin, and Daisuke—as an Omegan person involved, with a seat in the tunnel of mating cycles and secondary gender dynamics, would possibly realize how messed up their relationship is. They'd be bonded before Ken could even admit he loves him.
Perhaps Ken could still be subjected to Daisuke’s pity, and be handed a duffel bag of his clothing for his ruts. But to have Daisuke here, present with his chest rising with every breath under Ken’s sprawled palm? It's impossible.
Ken is just glad that his ruts were on the milder spectrum. His instinct is vocal, but so is his reason present. He's never done anything he'll regret during these practices. As far as Daisuke knows, they're just friends with this sort of special connection, more than Jogress. Daisuke helps him out because they're Partners.
If Daisuke could smell the way that Ken’s scent enveloped his person like second skin, if he could detect the large amounts of pheromones that Ken suffocates him in, then Daisuke would leave without turning back. He'd go home to scrub Ken’s influence off his body with a loofah.
Or maybe he'd give in, his sense broken under Ken’s own instinctive want to claim, heavy in his pheromones that work like a drug in his system. And he'd let Ken touch him anywhere, roam his hands over his skin and slide their bodies into perfect pieces. When Ken can grind into him, and break Daisuke into shining little pieces until he's powdered and gone.
But that's not how Ken wants him. Well, just a little.
Daisuke kicks away the covers, sweaty as he pulls away from Ken’s arms. Ken makes a conscious decision to loosen his grip, because Daisuke isn't abandoning him. In fact, he's turning over and giving Ken a nice view of his reddened face. Daisuke’s temples shine, his bangs stick to his forehead, and he frowns.
“Turn on the fan,” He whines, “It's too stuffy and hot in here!”
Normally, Ken would agree. He'd love to crack open the glass door leading to the balcony, but that would mean allowing Daisuke’s faint scent to be carried away when he's done this much to attempt sealing it into the walls of his room. He's been silently sweating his ass off, so Daisuke can atleast follow his example, and keep his mouth shut while Ken dumbly buries his nose into his chest as Daisuke checks his Facebook on Ken’s computer.
Daisuke sits up to reach at the headboard when Ken only slowly blinks at him. He offers him an uncapped bottle of water at his lips, so Ken only tips his head back to let it flow into his mouth.
It's still cold, bringing a nice chill through Ken’s otherwise overheated body. He hadn't realized how madly his temple was throbbing before Daisuke had pulled away. Ken groans, settles himself deeper into the comfort of his bed, where he smells the lingering touch of floral tease his nostrils on his pillow.
Daisuke’s brows twist in worry. He gives his arm to Ken, and the latter accepts it and rubs the side of his face over Daisuke’s wrist. He's pretty sure there's a scent gland there.
So, it begins like this.
Ken gets a text from Daisuke. It's 10PM, and he knows that the apartment of the Motomiya family is supposed to be empty. Daisuke told him it would be, and that they were on their way to visit relatives over in Osaka. But Daisuke texted him, Please come over, and hadn't seen Ken’s reply asking why he's still at home.
Thus, Ken bids his parents an excuse using Daisuke’s name since he knows that's pretty much enough reason for them, adoring their son’s friend as they did. He toes on his shoes, haphazardly zips on a random jacket over his pajamas, and boards a tight fit into a train leading to Odaiba. He sets into a sprint all the way to Daisuke’s apartment building, breath caught in a stagger in his lungs as he grinds his teeth from the overexterion of his muscles. While the Dark Spore gave him better human physical abilities than the average person, that doesn't mean he is to be entirely invincible.
He bangs on the door, and even considers smashing a rock on the hinges, before he finally hears footsteps. The door cracks open, Daisuke only shyly shows him half his face, pressed up against the wood.
His eyes crinkle. “You came.”
“Of course I did,” Ken says. If it's for you, has it ever been an option? “What's the issue?”
The second he opened the door, Ken crinkled his nose at the sudden scent of something familiar wafting over him. If a lot more in intensity. His chest tightens up, unable to stop himself from licking over his teeth for s moment.
Ken couldn't exactly recall when Daisuke had torn the door chain off and dragged him in, only able to clumsily kick off his shoes before he's led into Daisuke’s room. All he's thinking about is that he still needs to remove his jacket, that he's been outside and his clothing are dirtied with all the people he'd bumped against on the crowded subway; he wonders if he even brought his keys with him—are the only thoughts within Ken’s head before Daisuke pushes him up against the wooden door and cups his face in his warm hands to press a kiss on Ken's lips.
Daisuke’s nostrils flare, tilting his head to deepen the connection. He doesn't lick into him, instead he simply breathes into the kiss. Sighing into Ken’s mouth as if this wasn't their first. Like it relaxes him, more than it spikes his nerves and leaves his head winded.
Ken catches up. Instinct and desire are bubbling together into the blood that rushes into his numb arms to curl around Daisuke's hips, pushing him closer to himself even as the other boy keeps him flat against the door. Ken tilts his head to wholeheartedly consume him, wetting both their lips, gasping lightly when Daisuke’s fingers latch onto the zipper of his jacket and yanks it open. It's Ken himself who eagerly shrugs it off his shoulders, falling to a dull thump on the floor.
Arms now a bit more free, Ken skits his fingers all up and down Daisuke’s flanks over his pajamas. The knuckles nudging about caused an appreciative moan to slip from Daisuke’s lips and straight down Ken’s throat, where it'll live as fuel for his energy and nutrients for a whole day. Forget calories.
Daisuke breaks apart from him; whispers his name, where it hangs like a ghost from Ken’s ears. Thick with desperation, vulnerability, lowly murmured in the night like sacred secrets. Ken wants to catch it in his hands and keep it for safekeeping.
“Bed,” he says.
Ken’s already gently guiding him onto the mattress, the gentle creak of their weight as they shift to get comfortable sitting as close as they could to face each other only further killing the insistent voice in Ken’s head that demanded him to take a step back and question what the hell was going on.
However, sense and reason—he’s supposed to be good at this. As Daisuke pants against the corner of his lips, Ken squeezes his eyes tight and tries to think of something to say or ask to break the moment he definitely feels no desire to break.
“Breathe,” Ken tells him. He tries his best not to sound too wrecked already. He's far too confused.
But Daisuke only hiccups, tears welling up in his eyes. “Come on, Ken,” he goads, “I want you—I want you to—”
“Shh, shh.”
“How come you've never fucked me?”
Ken’s mind goes static, then blank. His brain is flailing around helplessly for a grasp on the situation and an appropriate response, but finds that the situation itself is entirely inappropriate and thus cannot produce a satisfactory answer.
“I'm not—I won't have sex with you, Daisuke, you're not in your right mind.” That sounds correct.
“I'm perfectly sober, mind you.” That also sounds perfectly correct. The preferable correct, actually.
There's truth in that. Daisuke doesn't seem notably weary, he doesn't slur his words or even seem that uncomfortable other than the light pink on his cheeks, and he's not acting unusual. Except for the fact that he's trying to get in Ken’s pants.
“Then,” Ken starts before he can hit the brakes. “You’re only saying this because you help me out in my ruts. If I was… If I was anyone else—”
He's quick to gun down that train of thought. “I wouldn't even consider it. Ken, do you honestly think I like it when you bite me? It hurts like hell.” Daisuke’s face twists with embarrassment.
“It’s only since it's you that I…”
Daisuke bites his lip, flushing red down to his collar. He cries, kicking into Ken’s thigh. “Hurry up,” he settles.
“You're acting like you're in heat, or something.” Ken comments. “I'd heard about this before, a rare occurrence where if an unpresented Beta were to grow up alongside the same unpresented Alpha, and were subjected to the..the usual things I did to you. And with just a few years of habit of being exposed to raw, uncontrolled pheromones during my rut, even Betas can experience a pseudo-heat, because the dormant Omegan had been continuously stimulated for—”
“Ken, you know, I'd love to listen to you any other time but right now. I'm probably catching every other word you're saying. All I can think about is—you know.”
Ken blushes at his honesty. “Sorry. I might be nervous.”
Daisuke’s gaze shifts, his own ears growing pink. “... Well, I am too. That's why we just have to go into this with our fists tight and swinging!”
A few knuckles just by Ken’s face, and he sees Daisuke desperately shadow boxing as if he's trying to fend off the fierce opponent known as embarrassment. Ken couldn't help but pump his own fists, regaining newfound composure in Daisuke’s helpless display of flailing as if he had any control over this situation.
His vision blurs for a moment. “Okay,” Ken gasps, hoping he doesn't sound so weakened as he felt at that moment.
Sweat trails down Daisuke’s tender obliques, and the slight dip of his waist looks so inviting. Exposed skin twitches underneath his raised shirt, the garter of his pajama pants hangs low off his hips, and Ken can almost peek at a kiss of hair. Ken drinks the sight in. Let it marinate in his mouth until his tongue is wet and heavy in his mouth. Daisuke is all sweet and sugary, so obviously trying to stop himself from covering up under Ken’s gaze.
Daisuke wants him to touch him. And with anything relating to and about Motomiya Daisuke, Ken finds himself incapable of shooting him down. Not when he also wants it this much. Not when Ken’s spent an entire puberty and extra with a brain full of nothing but Daisuke, Daisuke, Daisuke when he cums.
So, Ken slinks further down, his arms caging in the body squirming beneath him. His lips a breath away from Daisuke’s own, to say, “Can I kiss you?”
“Shit,” Daisuke chokes out. “Yes. Yeah. Please. Go for it. I—”
Daisuke tastes like the coffee staining his teeth, with his newly awakened appreciation for the drink. This close, and Ken can smell the sweat rolling out of him. Ken learns that when he curls his tongue just under Daisuke’s, a low rumble reverberates through Daisuke’s throat. It's as close to cathartic as it can get.
Daisuke’s lips are bitten pink with the parting bite Ken gave him. His fingers fumble for the buttons on his shirt, fingernails poking at his own chest as he fails. Their balmy knees knock together before Ken pushes him, spread and open, and kisses him again to keep Daisuke from complaining.
His throat, now, Ken takes in the scent of him where it lies heaviest on his neck, where hair rests. It’s a Sunday night when Daisuke picks up new knowledge with the weight of scripture, it's one Ken teaches him. Genius as he is.
When Daisuke puts an arm in between their interlocked ribs to make room for the impossible heat flaring up inside of himself, Ken grabs his wrist. His lips fly for the tender pulse, tonguing the throb, fangs scraping the vein. Here's what Ken has taught him:
Thighs melt apart. A kiss is not an ending.
A kiss is a greeting, a farewell, an opening of a present when Ken tugs at the buttons of his shirt and loosens them up. It is everything all at once; and it will never be enough.
It's overwhelming, and Daisuke’s lungs are so full of the air Ken gives him that he's not sure if he could ever take in something fresh without the traces of him lining his throat. His knees wobble, and Ken helps him steady on his hips, thumbing along his flanks. Dipping into the curves of his ribs. He caresses him with a gentleness reserved for only the most precious metals, as the blood in Daisuke’s veins boils over to liquid gold.
Daisuke’s face twists as Ken lays a peck on the seam of his lips.
The woodsy smell on Daisuke’s skin permeates, and Ken doesn't even need to sneak in as close as possible to gather a hint of it. It makes him a little more than delirious, head heavy as he trails his open mouth down Daisuke’s sternum, his head pounding as Daisuke grips his hair in his hand too tightly. He pops open the last few buttons, grabbing at Daisuke’s lower waist to lift his stomach and suck on the sweet skin right above his naval.
“Ken, not like that.” Daisuke hisses, impatient. “You don't need to do all that.”
A kiss on Daisuke’s hip. “I'm going to.”
Little stars come together to be destroyed as one, exploding into dazzling arrays of lights in Daisuke’s periphery. It corners him, drags his drifting soul back into the soils of his body, driving him lower and lower to the point where he has to uselessly grip onto the cotton sheets in fear of falling through the mattress.
“I'm making you feel good, right?” Ken’s voice pierces through Daisuke’s thickened head, pounding with blood and aching in arousal. His hands worshiped all over Daisuke’s body, treating him like marbled classics. Clings onto him like something vicious and possessive. Almost.
When he doesn't get an answer, he pinches at Daisuke’s thigh through the soft linen. Daisuke gasps, and only sneers a little.
“Be nice to me,” He says, a touch pitifully. He's hiding his face in his forearms. But when Ken looks up from his lips delicately sewn into the curve of Daisuke’s ribcage, he can spot gritted teeth.
Ken licks at the mark he left on his skin, and tastes Daisuke’s shiver on his tongue.
He's got his knuckles deep into the garter of Daisuke’s pajamas, when Daisuke finally says, “It feels good,” and, “You already know that.”
Ken exhales a breath he isn't sure how long he's kept in his chest, but his lungs flutter about painfully. “Sorry, you're right. I won't tease you anymore.”
As fun as it was, Daisuke was very clearly burning up. It wasn't just the sex. His eyes are dilated, yet clouded and unfocused.
All Daisuke can see is the strands of dark hair falling from Ken’s head, dipping into the sensitive parts of his jaw when Ken pushes their foreheads together. His breath is near tantalizing, and Daisuke does his best not to chase after his lips when Ken pulls away.
Daisuke helps Ken remove his own pants and underwear by kicking it off his ankles. The head of his cock momentarily latches on the hem of the waistband, making him cry out.
His cock is flushed to an aching red, teary and leaking. The bulbous tip looked almost inflamed, needy and heavy as it twitched in the cold air.
Ken very nearly moans. “Daisuke, I can smell you so well,” He says, weakened. He's half expecting to find slick leaking between Daisuke’s thighs, but there's nothing.
There is lube, however. It makes it look wet and inviting. Ken’s throat has long gone dry.
Daisuke bites his lip, becoming misty eyed. He was heating up, a terrifying heat that focuses on his stomach and burns through all over his body. Weakness and deliriousness come hand in hand, overwhelming him in great waves of pleasure at just being looked at under Ken’s watchful gaze. Everything from his dick to his toes ached—for what? Well, that much is obvious.
“Try not to go into your rut again,” Daisuke snickers, only to cave the awkwardness within him. He's still too embarrassed, really, especially with the way Ken looks so intently between his legs. But it's nice to fall into something familiar like this, even if Daisuke’s blood feels like it's on fire.
Ken presses his head onto the expanse of his stomach, Daisuke shivers as he's hyper aware of Ken’s breath just barely reaching his blood filled cock. One of his hands rubs flank, teasingly pinching his side before exploring his back in slow circles that make Daisuke’s breath hitch, heart pounding in his chest like a drum.
His other hand, however, reaches behind and cups his ass. Squeezing as his fingers dip beneath the sensitive crack. Cupping mounds of flesh. Daisuke can't help it, he moans just from that.
Ken unearths the sacred grounds of Daisuke’s body with nothing but tongue and teeth, fingernails scraping along and leaving no stone unturned.
His need for Daisuke overwhelms him often, even without the presence of his rut cycle. Not even his shriveling lungs could tear his mouth away from Daisuke’s, not when Ken can simply live off the smallest traces of oxygen between their shared breath. Carbon dioxide makes for the sweetest aphrodisiac. As if Ken hasn't been half a junkie for Motomiya Daisuke’s scent for years.
“Let me fuck you,” Ken demands, pleads with the way his voice is reduced to a whisper pressed against Daisuke’s throat. His Adam’s Apple. His precious jugular. Ken burns with his desire to sink into him, making it so obvious that Daisuke doesn't tease him about it. “Please.”
Daisuke kisses him with fervor, wet and open mouthed. It's a bit clumsy, but it's that manner of his that enraptured Ken all the same.
It's enough of an answer. Ken drinks him in, lips still brushing against each other even as the kiss dies.
Ken allows himself to indulge in the softest sigh from his pale lips, it chips away at his anxieties as it does with his inhibitions. He fondles Daisuke’s stomach, his chest, yearns for the blood beating in Daisuke’s heart that he has to bite his inner lip if only to satiate himself
His hands slide over the delicious promise of blood and bone, coming lower, down into the garter of Daisuke’s underwear. Ken pulls it all down, wet with sweat.
He couldn't help but moan at Daisuke’s scent. He can't help it so much that he fucks his hips forward, grinding his own clothed cock against Daisuke's nude own. The extra texture makes friction burn with pleasure, but Ken still shoves his own pants down to fuck their wet cocks together.
Ken’s stomach flexes, muscles rising and flattening with exasperated pleasure. Daisuke keens and twists this way and that, raising his hips to meet Ken’s sliding just enough. There's two hearts thumping at once but Daisuke can't hear anything above the low hum of the swinging electric fan, and the open window carrying the howling wind of a hot summer night.
They shiver, bumping their sore cocks together. Daisuke sits between the space of Ken's legs, his own pair winded around the other boy’s hips.
Daisuke can't help but angle his chin to gently lick at Ken’s lips, tasting him. He feels so needy that every part of him ached to be suffocated in Ken’s scent. A treat he barely gets to smell, a Beta’s weakened sense of smell as it is. Usually, it's only on Ken’s ruts will he get to savor this, when it becomes stronger as pheromones leak out of him continuously. He never gets close enough otherwise.
Ken’s scent makes him huff madly, temple thumping with the ache of joy and pleasure at just the scent of him. He smells so good… Daisuke could only whine.
“Inside,” Daisuke gasps, letting his needs be known. “Blanket, lube.”
Ken nods, not yet trusting his voice. He reaches over behind himself for the blanket and mindlessly gropes around until he fishes out a medium sized bottle of clear fluid. Halfway used up and empty. Heat blooms under his cheeks wondering how long this has lived inside Daisuke’s room, and wonders if he should ask. The idea is forgotten all together when Daisuke starts making a fuss, wanting Ken’s hands and body back against him at once.
Ken flips open the cap and gathers it on his fingers. Daisuke falls onto his back before Ken could push him, making him smile at his desperation as he claims his spot between Daisuke’s legs. He elevates Daisuke’s hips with a small pillow, before carefully dragging a finger inside the coil of muscle to the first knuckle. Surprisingly without the slightest resistance. Actually, Daisuke already had a bit of lube stained down there, but Ken still wanted to be careful
“Three.” Daisuke demands. He sounds so sure of himself that Ken flicks his wrist before plunging in the desired amount.
Air is knocked out of him. Daisuke writhes in pleasure as Ken’s fingers pump his insides, squeezing around them. Sucking them in. Ken reaches into areas untouched by the caress of Daisuke’s own fingers and he can't help but keen.
A particularly hard roll against his prostate has Daisuke moaning, gasping under Ken’s grasp. It fuels Ken on, wanting to see more of him like this, and all of the parts of Daisuke he's always been too ashamed to flaunt. Always, Ken wants him this way. That, too, and any way Daisuke would permit it.
Ken's heart trembles, but he's never felt bolder. “If it doesn't hurt, then how does it feel?” And he kisses him on his cheek, the cut of his jaw, tenderly. Miracles like Daisuke should only be cherished. “Can you tell me?”
With how close his face is, Ken can't see anything but short eyelashes trembling, hiding away Ken’s favorite shade of brown. Their breaths hang on a shared tightrope, heart quickening despite the depleting oxygen in their blood.
Ken makes sure to kiss Daisuke again, addicted to the pressure of his lips against his. It drives him spit-drunk and half-crazy, swapping breathes and fanning the flames gathering in the pits of their bellies, lighting up under sunken ribs.
Daisuke gasps. Ken lets him tear his face away from the loving suffocation. He breathes in once, twice, gathers oxygen into his lungs to calm his thundering heart. He's all red in the face, and Ken can't help himself but to ravage his mouth once more, dragging him back under the storm of frenzied romantics, whisking him away to become nothing but his flesh and bone. Until he melts under the fingers pressing down on his prostate, and opens his legs wider.
“Do it already,” Daisuke urges, long since driven up the wall by the teasing. His entire body throbbed with the need for Ken inside him. He wants him inside, grinding into every piece of him where Daisuke could never reach for himself when he tried. “Ken, please, come on…”
But Ken’s not quite done stretching both their patience thin and weary. His face twists, just the slightest in a way that Daisuke can instantly recognize. Like he's realized he's deep into something and that he can't go back, but he can stop right here and dig his grave right under his feet.
“We could stop here. I can just open you up like this more.”
Daisuke glares at him. “Could you stretch me out any more than this with anything but your dick?”
“I could,” Ken says, “with my hands, my tongue, everything.”
“That's not what I want. You know what I want.” Daisuke enunciates. “Ken, take me seriously!”
Daisuke’s rich, musky scent lays heavy like a layer of melted sugar over Ken’s tongue. He leans closer, nearly caging him in his arms as Daisuke’s words threaten to topple the very foundation of his core. Who's not taking who seriously, exactly?
Surely not Ken, who's spent countless nights fucking into his own fist at the idea of Daisuke willingly spreading his legs for him. Near insomniac at the plague of his sexual fantasies. It goes something like this; Ken needing him, Daisuke wanting him, allowed to strip him as he pleases, leave vampiric welts along his skin and sink his teeth into every piece of thin muscle of his body, Ken with his hands sliding Daisuke’s thighs apart, and then—
“Daisuke, aren't you the one who's never taken me seriously? You're the one who keeps inviting yourself over. You let me take off your clothes. You let me taste your skin. You pretend like you don't notice it as I touch myself when you're in my bed.” Ken’s lips ghost along his chin, promising teeth around his throat. “I could've had you anytime I wanted.”
“Then why haven't you?”
“Because I want you to want it even half as much as I do, always have. Daisuke, tell me you want this.”
Daisuke couldn't help the whine rolling out from his chest at Ken’s erection grinding against his ass and thighs, clumsy and wild with the cruelty of holding back. His hips snap as he does so in a way that makes Daisuke’s breath hitch. Heat bubbles inside his belly with the touch of electricity on his fingertips. Every nerve of his lights up at the sheer display of Ken’s desire for him.
He's so hard that it hurts. His insides churn with the helpless feeling of emptiness, stirred on by the heavy weight of Ken’s cock poking at him.
Ken’s voice is low, washing tides of lust along the shells of Daisuke’s ears. “Tell me you want my cock.”
“I want it!” Daisuke gasps, embarrassment overwritten as he's dragged into the light and left wanting. “Please, Ken, I'm telling you I'll do anything you want. I just—”
“Then stay still.” And that's the last that Daisuke hears before a thick sense of traffic overruns his brain at Ken’s cockhead catching at the rim of his hole. It kissed it as a greeting, slowly yet firmly locking it inside of Daisuke as Ken began shallowly canting his hips inch by inch until he made it fully inside.
Until he pulls out.
Daisuke wheezes when the tip of Ken’s cock catches on the rim, stretching it as he slowly pushes his hips to feed the expanse of the head—before pulling out and continuing to slide its entirety against Daisuke’s teased entrance. Sliding between slick lube and sensitivity that only serves to make Daisuke’s eyes burn with tears.
The taste of the breach makes Daisuke’s legs just barely spread apart, then makes his hips twitch in desperation when Ken pulls away. IhatethisIhatethisIhatethisIhatethis, is the only coherent thought in Daisuke’s brain. He needs Ken inside so badly, reach deep inside of him to grasp the solid heat in his stomach until Daisuke can finally feel some semblance of peace. He can't smell anything more than Ken’s scent, and the scent has turned tangible enough over Daisuke’s tongue that he swallows down his own saliva in comfort; wishing so badly for any piece of Ken to claim his insides until he sings.
Ken doesn't tease him for long, though. They both know he wants this, and patience has never been one of his strongest qualities. At Daisuke’s desperate attempts to rock himself over his cock while also listening to Ken’s previous demand to be still, Ken couldn't help but snicker. Some kind of muffled snort as if he tried to save Daisuke the embarrassment but realized he's choosing not to be that kind halfway through.
How many times had Ken dreamed of this moment? So, he presses in. A slow push of his cock inside Daisuke that makes his thighs tremble with the weight of desire.
Daisuke squirms and moans at every piece of Ken he's made to take, filling him in. He keeps shaking his head and trembling, but he does listen to Ken's request. He's not running away. Daisuke’s breathing has gone into wheezing when Ken’s hips press flat against his ass. Their breaths are thin following along the tight knit of teeth.
Thus, Ken realizes he's fully inside Daisuke. He's all slick and hot inside like molten earth, and every desperate brush of his fingertips skittering across Ken’s wrists makes little flickers of life grow across his skin. Tingling. Ken’s head is throbbing.
Daisuke throws his head back and cums. For a moment, his mouth gapes open wordlessly as his orgasm is violently torn out of him. He's quick to reset however, babbling through the aftershocks as pleasure still makes tremors across his tender body.
“No, no, no—please don't stop. Ken..don't stop, please. I didn't mean to.” Daisuke cries out. Despite having just finished, his hips begin at a sloppy grind against Ken’s cock. He's moaning as he spears himself on his dick like he can't get enough of it.
“More?” Ken chokes out. The word comes out raspy. Without waiting for an answer, he draws his hips back, agonizingly slow and Daisuke whines at the slow drag inside of himself. Full throttle slamming himself back in makes Daisuke’s ass clench tight, making blood boil and fizzle over at Ken’s fingertips.
He should be careful. He really should be. Daisuke isn't an Omega. He needs to treat him more tenderly, as if he were fragile. Daisuke can't make his own slick, nor does his entrance have an easier time accepting intrusion. He's tight like a rope around Ken’s throat. Daisuke could never take his knot.
Fuck, if Ken didn't grind his cock even further into Daisuke as if there was more for him to take at the single thought of that. He's always thought of that; making Daisuke stuck on his knot like he was meant to take it. Take the stretch and take Ken fucking himself so deep in his guts that Daisuke wouldn't be able to do anything but cry. Fuck a kid inside him. A man can dream.
Daisuke will still feel good from this sort of pleasure, but his body isn't made to take Ken’s cock. Biologically speaking.
However…
It's not entirely impossible. Daisuke seems to have already stretched himself on his own (god) and Ken did so plenty earlier, and now he can even take his cock. If Daisuke wanted it, his knot, and Ken could have more time stretching him open and easing the tight muscle then…
“Move!”
He's getting ahead of himself.
Ken sets a brutal pace.
“I was thinking, when I put my fingers in you, that you already felt so wet and loose. Did you try and take care of it yourself before meeting me?”
Daisuke blinks up at him, urging him closer. He rocks along the rhythm of Ken’s hips, tender and easy to devour. “You just want to embarrass me.” He accuses.
He at least has the shame to smile at him, before swooping down for another huff.
Ken’s fangs dig into the side of his throat and draw blood. Pain doesn't so much register within Daisukes’s muddled, sensory overwhelmed mind, so what comes out is warm and magical. He finds pleasure instead, so full and plentiful and well-grown from the soil of his mind to flourish into an array of colored blooms. It's all he's ever wished for.
Daisuke is giving, if only because he can't handle it all by himself. His panting mouth clumsily stretches to reveal molars, and bares his fangs onto Ken’s ear. Easy to reach as Ken stays with his face huffing Daisuke’s scent straight from the source in his neck. The barely noticeable scent gland of what is undeniably a Beta.
Ken groans, grits his teeth and swiftly shifts his head to the side. Inky, pin-straight hair washes over Daisuke’s vision, coming over as a veil of smoke and translucent desperation. Until Ken’s hands leave his flanks and grip tight on his temples.
The action seems to have served a rousing catalyst to Ken’s forest fire of a desire, because suddenly all Ken can do is take, take, take; a piece of skin from Daisuke’s bottom lip, and lapping his tongue over the blood that comes forth for season’s spring; Ken’s hips grind into him in short pulses, like he couldn't get enough of milking his raw cock inside Daisuke’s guts.
Daisuke obsesses over this.
He even fucks back against him to prove it, open mouthed and cursing at nothing in particular.
Ken nuzzles his face into his neck, tongue lining the muscle of his throat and turning Daisuke stiff and expectant. But Ken’s teeth don't so much as graze his skin, and Daisuke is left to quietly fuss at himself for wanting it. He's already bruised and bitten more than enough times. Why does he keep wanting it?
A kiss placed on the flat of Daisuke’s jaw is the only warning he gets before Ken pushes back in, bottoms out in carving a home in his guts. Daisuke whines, throws his head back at the delicious burn.
Ken keeps pressing feathery kisses along the slope of his throat, the gentle curve of his chest, a trembling naval.
What Daisuke really wants…
Ken comes crashing down in the form of a meteor, falling upon him and tastes his mouth over and over again. He swipes cum off Daisuke’s slobbering cock and slides the gathered essence between Daisuke’s teeth, earthen and sour. Saliva floods to neutralize the foreign taste but Daisuke can't care about it, not when Ken rubs his ribbed palate goodbye and sends newfound pleasure to his brain.
What his brain couldn't ever hope to masterfully craft to seem literate, Daisuke’s mouth falls open to express his pleasure and satisfaction in staccato moans; the erratic rise and fall of his chest, where his intentions to stay in Ken’s arms are a solemn truth carved marrow-deep into Daisuke’s bones.
What Daisuke will always need…
“Baby—let’s have a baby,” Daisuke moans.
Ken feels positively nauseous. He's so sure Daisuke had felt the way he throbbed inside him. “Don't say that,” he damn near begs, “I want that so badly for us.”
“You've thought of it.” Daisuke realizes.
“It's impossible not to.”
Ken’s palm is scorching when he reaches out to drag his hand over Daisuke’s stomach. The expanse of flesh trembles under the curve of his finger nails, causing Daisuke to gently curve and arch himself into the touch, craving more of his hands on him. It feels like the only thing in this living world that is as capable of dousing the heat within him, as it is to fan the flames and feed it the wind to grow.
At the center of Daisuke’s belly, Ken pauses. “Right here. I'll knock you up until you're full with it,” he gently murmurs to him. The kiss against Daisuke’s throat is nothing short of an oath. “I'll take care of everything.”
It takes more than a generous amount of effort to keep Daisuke from whimpering. His lips tremble like he's supposed to, but his voice is steady when he says, “Finish inside me—” then, a tender crack in his tone, a note of desperation; “Please.”
He can almost hear his pulse, rising in tune with the rush of blood within him. How warm he feels between Ken’s palms. Heady, fogged, groggy in sex. Ken fucks into him at a maddening pace, kisses his face sweetly in some wicked sort of dichotomy. Enough to make Daisuke feel dizzy, yet craving for all he is to give.
Before Daisuke can even take, Ken crushes him in all he has to give.
“How does it feel?” Ken rasps out, crushing his fingers into Daisuke’s thighs.
Daisuke wheezes. “Fine,” he moans, spine curling.
“More,” Ken presses on.
“It's amazing—shit, Ken, I love it,” Daisuke’s words flow out of him before he realizes he'd already formed the thoughts. “My stomach’s burning! I love it!”
“Daisuke, please tell me—tell me you can take it, please,” Ken groans out, hips bucking into him without grace. The grip he has on Daisuke doesn't permit the slightest movement, as if he were afraid of Daisuke slipping away. Like he'd lose the warm, wet, sloppy hole wringing his cock for his seed to be thoroughly bred. Daisuke’s.
Daisuke’s brain can't catch up. Neither do most of his senses, honestly. All he can feel is the building pressure deep in his stomach, Ken’s cock pressing circles deep in his guts every other thrust of his hips, his hands and mouth and hair tickling his collarbones and everything Ken has to offer. Dumbly, he moans out. Incoherent babble. Nothing of sense.
Ken fucks into him as if he's all that is desirable, though, and Daisuke really can't process anything beyond the joy of that.
His hips stutter, quickly angling to fuck into Daisuke, all the way to the base and even spreading the fat of his ass and thighs to get as far in as he can. All Daisuke can do is cry out brokenly, savoring the feeling of being so absolutely full.
Until the feeling spikes at the sensation of his tender hole being slowly stretched even more. In a confused panic, he tries to squirm away—but Ken’s hips keep weight over him, and his hands dig bruises into his hips as he makes sure Daisuke stays right there. His gasping is hot and heavy from the emerge of his knot, of Daisuke forced down onto it.
Once Daisuke is perfectly stretched and sobbing around his knot, and Ken indulges himself in another deep inhale of the pheromones tumbling off his sweet scent; it is only when Ken finally allows himself to cum. Warmth travels from his stomach and climbs up the knobs of his spine, tingling in pleasure at the back of his skull. Ken feels the tie in his belly unlock to relax as his semen releases into his plugged partner.
Daisuke only whines, low in his throat as it pours into him. The heat drags his spent yet hard cock to completion, cumming untouched at the event of being bred.
“Hurts,” he mumbles honestly. The stretch is far too much than he imagined, uncomfortable in his own body from the cauldron mix of sweet pain and pleasure. Daisuke’s stomach cramps up, and Ken’s knot only keeps him stuck onto his cock with no inch for refuge. He can almost perfectly feel how deep Ken has buried himself inside him, throbbing against his grip and filling his belly with heat.
“I'm sorry,” Ken says. “It'll be easier in a bit, you'll get used to it.”
“Kiss me,” Daisuke demands of him. Which Ken is quick to comply with. Chapped and welcome.
Ken is here with him. Inside him, even. All around him. Spinning him in circles before curving him counterclockwise. Synapses fired.
Breathing is supposed to come easy and automatic, but Daisuke can't ever find the equilibrium with Ken’s addition to the equation; inhaling, exhaling, Ken’s breath mingling with him yet Daisuke has never felt as suffocated. Ken gives him pleasure in layers, cut open with a surprise of tender desire and devotion for him, where Daisuke’s lungs are driven to deprivation around the feeling of Ken deep within. Stretching him.
Should Daisuke skip the floral poetics; He was being bred out of his mind to the point he felt that the pre he's been leaking was truly his oozing brain matter all along. His ass felt puffy and sore but he didn't want Ken to quit even the slightest bit. He briefly wonders about having a potential masochism streak, but it wasn't the pain he liked. It was the sensation of fullness, the way his stomach was pressed down as it fluttered like two wings of a butterfly; Ken who pleased him in heavy-handed affection. As if all his desires were too heavy of a burden to hold so it came crashing down onto Daisuke. Sex is reciprocation, Daisuke learns.
Ken fucks into him with purpose, rolling his hips like he can't get enough of him even though his knot barely allows even an inch for movement. His mouth falls open, twists and huffs against Daisuke’s throat. Nostrils flaring. His Adam's apple is being pampered in pieces of affection left behind by the curl and brush of Ken’s lips on him. Teeth, now.
He’s reaching for the back of his neck. The junction between the shoulder and throat. Sniffing and searching for something, huffing from his nose with great lack of satisfaction. But Ken keeps at it, licking his tongue over the drawn blood.
Daisuke winces at the pain. “God, Ken, you know I don't have any of those… You can't claim me.”
In fact, Daisuke has never once wished to be an Omega or an Alpha.
But it's not the first time he's wondered if Ken preferred him to be anything else than what he was.
“I know,” Ken whispers into his throat. Tasting sweat.
And right now, Ken is rubbing the gland on his wrists over the underside of Daisuke’s jaw. All over the places where his pheromones can last the longest. Daisuke is hoping he can forget his own scent, buried in Ken’s own, and get amnesia and die like that. He seldom has the grace of smelling Ken’s scent otherwise. Did the fake-heat make it so that his senses were temporarily heightened?
“You'll just have to be content with this,” Daisuke sternly tells him. Then, he remembers himself. “... Should you keep me, I mean.”
Apparently at Daisuke’s honest display of the facts, Ken seemed to get ticked off, judging by the way Ken pinched his nipple hard. Daisuke, of course, yells at him.
“What's your damage!?”
Ken turns it right back at him. “What's your damage? I'm perfectly happy with the excuse to bite you here and almost claim you like this over and over again every single day!”
Daisuke has the nerve to look appalled. “Ew! Who's letting you!?”
“You are. Damn, we're having kids. I'm having a baby with you and you can't even take that seriously.”
“Baby?” Daisuke parrots, indignant. “But I can't get pregnant.” Clearly, he just wasn't in his right mind earlier. It was the dormant Omegan in him, or whatever the fuck Ken called it.
“Technically, you have a 10% chance of getting pregnant.” Ken lays it on him. “Don’t you pay attention in science?”
“That's such a nothing-whatever percentage that it doesn't even matter.” But suddenly Daisuke looks a little anxious. “But maybe pull out and put a condom on!”
“I can't yet. My knot hasn't gone down, and it'll tear both of us down there if we force it apart. Plus, I'd already came in you…” Ken seems to realize something. “Are you saying we'll go again after my knot goes down?”
Daisuke crumples under the expectant gaze placed upon him. “Well—uh, sure. Yeah.”
“But as you said, 10% is practically nothing. I don't see the point in wasting plastic.”
“Don't push it, Ichijouji.”
“It's bad for the environment.” Go green.
“And it's bad for your daughters and sons to die inside me because I'm not getting knocked up. It was just a slip of the tongue, a joke if you will.”
“I don't even have condoms,” Ken says truthfully. “I wouldn't lie to you about that.”
Daisuke looks at him, considering. “Since there's nothing we can do…”
Ken nods. “It can't be helped.”
“It really can't.” A teasing smile plays over Daisuke's lips. “And I'm just not feeling better yet, you know.”
Ken returns it, his eyes curling with mirth. “Then, I'll be sure to hold you until you're satisfied.”
“5-star service.”