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Fuma is confident in his relationship.
He’s more confident in his relationship with Yudai than he has been about his relationship with anyone else he’s ever been with. He’s an adult now, and Yudai is the love of his life. If they weren’t contractually obligated to stay mark free, he and Yudai would have mated over a year ago. They’re solid, and comfortable, and in love with each other.
Yudai has a much longer list of past suitors than Fuma does. That’s just a fact. Yudai has spent most of his life being popular, and desirable, and capitalizing off of it. Fuma doesn’t blame him. Of course not. And, Fuma knows that Yudai loves him now. That Yudai is committed to him forever.
He didn’t know that Yudai’s most recent ex-situationship— a pretty omega named Hina— got a job at the company. Sure, she was always in the industry— that’s how she and Yudai met in the first place— but she worked elsewhere. One of those big entertainment companies that they’d only cross paths with at music programs, and mostly in Korea.
Now they’re in Tokyo, and Yudai is leaning against a set piece in an obnoxiously casual way, one arm laying on top, the other on his hip, head thrown back as he laughs at something the newest YX crew member says.
“Why do you look like you’re going to kill Kei-hyung?” Yuma asks, glancing up from his phone to shoot Fuma a judgemental look. They’re both sharing a loveseat shoved off to the side of the set, waiting for the jacket shoot to start. Half the members are still in hair and makeup.
Fuma’s leg bounces restlessly, hands folded together, elbows resting on his knees. He realizes the posture might be vaguely threatening. He sits up, keeping his hands clasped together in his lap. “I’m not,” he lies.
“Are you in pre-heat? You’re acting crazy,” Yuma snorts, returning back to scrolling through his phone.
“Excuse me—” Fuma huffs, gearing up to lecture Yuma about how he speaks to his elders. He’s interrupted by another loud laugh echoing across the room, Yudai leaning forward, grin lingering on his face.
“I don’t blame you, Fuma-san. She’s pretty. If my mate were laughing at another pretty omega like that, I’d be crazy, too.” Yuma sighs, stretching like a cat and relaxing into his spot on the sofa.
He’s being annoying on purpose. Fuma knows that. Yuma doesn’t even have a mate. He’s been pretty consistently sleeping around with practically every female alpha in Japan since their debut. Fuma could say so to get him back— but he keeps his mouth shut. He knows that’s what Yuma wants. The kid feeds on contrition.
Fuma releases a tight breath, standing up.
Yuma breaks into an annoyingly knowing grin, beaming up at him. “Don’t posture too much, hyung!” he snickers.
There’s nothing Fuma could say that would make him seem less pathetic, so he doesn’t bother. He loosens the tie the stylist has tightened around his neck, freeing up his throat a bit. They can fix it when everyone else is ready. It’s taking too long. Fuma feels like he’s suffocating. He stalks across the set, his scent ripening into something so sweet it’s nearly sour on his own tongue.
Yudai smells him before he sees him. Fuma watches him straighten, eyes widening in surprise for a moment before his face softens when he turns. “Fuma—” he says gently. “Everything okay?”
Fuma doesn’t hesitate to slot himself against Yudai’s side. Yudai’s arm slings lazily around his waist. Fuma splays a hand between Yudai’s shoulderblades, creeping upwards. “Yuma was pissing me off,” he mutters.
“Mm,” Yudai hums knowingly. “Fuma, have you met Hina before? She just started working for YX.”
“Hi, it’s so nice to see you in person— I’ve heard so much about you,” Hina smiles prettily, bowing to Fuma.
“Likewise.” He returns the gesture, his left hand finally rounding the side of Yudai’s neck.
It’s not exactly subtle— the way he’s pressing his wrist against Yudai’s scent gland. Fuma’s sweetness mixing with the mellow undertones of Yudai’s more masculine scent. Yudai used to marvel at the way Fuma smells. He used to marvel at the fact that Fuma is an omega at all. His mouth used to water when Fuma entered a room. Now they’re domestic, and Yudai is talking to other omegas.
Yudai laughs, glancing at Fuma in question. He squeezes Fuma’s hip where his hand is resting. Fuma wants to forget about politeness and bury his face in Yudai’s neck. Mouth over his scent gland and make sure everyone knows who he belongs to. He wants Yudai to smell so much like him that no one else goes within a ten meter radius. Not even the kids.
“Fuma— you’re burning up—” Yudai mumbles, laying the back of his hand on Fuma’s forehead.
Fuma makes a face at him. He knows he’s not overheating. He feels perfectly fine. Just a little possessive.
“I’m so sorry, Hina, we’ll have to catch up more another time— We should go find someone to check his temperature.”
Hina’s skepticism breaks through for a moment, eyes dropping to where Fuma is openly scenting Yudai, fingers crawling up his jaw, but she covers it up well. She smiles politely, bowing to both of them. “Good luck on the shoot!”
Yudai smiles his thanks, his hand curling firmly around Fuma’s wrist, lowering it to his side. His fingers grip Fuma so tightly it almost hurts. Fuma certainly doesn’t mind.
He doesn’t question Yudai as he’s pulled away. Led into a hallway. He figures Yudai will take him to a bathroom, and scold him, and then give him a kiss to placate him for the rest of the shoot.
Instead, Yudai takes a sharp right after they round the corner towards the bathrooms. He yanks open a door and shoves Fuma inside of a small room, following behind to crowd Fuma up against a utility shelf along the wall.
Fuma gasps. They’re definitely not supposed to be in here. Some sort of service room— tools and cleaning supplies littering the floor and shelves. Somehow, Fuma doesn’t care.
“You couldn’t wait?” Yudai asks lowly, dropping his nose to trace along Fuma’s jaw. Fuma’s eyes roll back into his head, hands curling into the fabric of Yudai’s sweater. Yudai’s lips graze over Fuma’s scent gland. He doesn’t kiss him, even though he knows that’s what Fuma wants, he just breathes. “You had to scent me in front of my friend?”
“She’s hardly your friend,” Fuma scoffs. He grits his teeth when Yudai shoves a thigh between his legs, firm muscle pressing deliciously against his cock. “Fuck, Yudai—” he breathes.
“She is my friend, baby. And you know that. I’ve been with you— exclusively— for two years.”
Fuma’s chest seizes up when Yudai finally kisses him, lips hot against his skin. Fuma relaxes immediately, mollified by the mouth of his alpha. His body releases a shuddering sigh, scent rounding back to its usual sweetness, bitter notes melting away.
Yudai kisses up his jaw, he laughs when Fuma turns his head to catch his mouth, but gives in anyway, indulging Fuma in a slow kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of Fuma’s mouth, the undersides of his teeth. His thigh stays tensed, pushing against Fuma’s crotch.
“If you can’t wait…” Yudai murmurs against his cheek. “We’ll have to do it now.”
The cold metal of the shelf bites into Fuma’s back, his fingers kneading the flesh at Yudai’s hips. “We can’t,” he says, but he doesn’t even sound like he believes himself.
“I’ll be fast,” Yudai hums. He’s already undoing Fuma’s fly with one practiced hand, the other holding Fuma’s hips steady.
It doesn’t take him long to shove Fuma’s pants down. He pulls him out of his underwear, palming over his still soft cock. Fuma groans, pathetic breath leaving his lips.
Yudai smiles at him, pupils blown out. He wants this just as much as Fuma does. It’s clear on his face. He hikes Fuma’s shirt up, flipping his tie over his shoulder and holding the bulky hem to Fuma’s lips. “Bite,” he orders.
“Kei—”
“You can’t get cum on your shirt, Fuma.”
Fuma bites. He leans his head back against the shelf behind him, looking down his stomach as Yudai works him to full hardness. His mouth starts watering around the cotton between his teeth. It’ll be soaked when they’re done, he’s sure.
He can’t bring himself to care when Yudai is spitting into his palm and fisting Fuma just the way he likes. When Yudai’s thumb digs into the head of his cock, coaxing out a slew of pre-cum. Fuma moans into his shirt.
Yudai smirks. He leans in, cheek working over Fuma’s neck as he jerks him off. Fuma’s throat is stuffed up with the smell of Yudai. He’s suffocating, but he doesn’t mind. He chokes, already on the edge of orgasm, eyes flitting to the door— still unlocked.
Anyone could find them here. Follow the smell of sex and rat them out. They could lose their jobs. Let down everyone. They could finally mate for real, if there were no contract in effect.
“My baby,” Yudai murmurs against Fuma’s throat. “I’m yours. No one else’s. You know that, right?”
Fuma lets out another moan that sounds enough like agreement to satisfy Yudai. Yudai hums again, flattening his tongue over Fuma’s neck, licking straight across his scent gland.
That’s all it takes. Fuma finishes, stomach tightening, groaning into his shirt. Yudai works him through it, making sure all of Fuma’s cum is collected on his hand before tucking Fuma back into his underwear. He was right about the shirt, too. He uses his thumb to clean up a bit that spilled over onto Fuma’s stomach, sticking it in his mouth and sucking it clean as if that’s entirely normal of him to do.
Fuma’s jaw unclenches, shirt falling back over him, hem stretched and wet.
Yudai smiles at him particularly dangerously. He likes to play with his food. It’s an alpha trait he’s doubled down on rather than letting up on with age. He holds his hand up to Fuma’s mouth, raising his eyebrows.
Fuma looks down, his own cum painting Yudai’s hand. He knows what Yudai wants. He opens his mouth and provides. He makes a noise when he first tastes himself, the thick smell in the air offsetting the bitterness. Yudai watches Fuma carefully as he licks every bit of skin clean. He sucks two of Yudai’s fingers into his mouth for good measure, taking them to the back of his throat before letting them fall out, covered in saliva.
“Gross,” Yudai teases, tongue running over his bottom lip. Fuma grabs the front of his sweater, hauling him in. Yudai smiles into the kiss, more than pleased with himself. “I love you,” he says into Fuma’s mouth.
“I know,” Fuma sighs.
Yudai reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stick of gum. He unwraps it and feeds it into Fuma’s mouth.
Fuma furrows his brows in question, mint overpowering his tongue.
“I asked Hina if she had any. I knew you’d come find me eventually. You’re ovulating.”
“I—” Fuma opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it again just as quickly. Yudai always knows his cycle better than he does. He’s a good partner. A good mate. “I hate you,” he says instead.
Yudai giggles. He finishes doing up Fuma’s pants, tucking the wet, wrinkled edge of his shirt into the front. “Think the kids will know what we were up to?”
“No,” Fuma lies, just to make Yudai feel better.
Nicholas takes one look at them when they return, nose turned up in the air, sniffing lightly. His entire face screws up, lip curling in disgust. “Ew.”