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A second blast of Eigaon crackles down onto Akechi’s frame. He staggers back, crumpling to one knee as he holds his chest. Akira watches hesitantly, fingers twitching against the Moon Dango sticking partially out of his pocket. Whether he’ll be using it for himself or Akechi, he’s not sure. To his surprise, Akechi laughs. It’s a dark thing, laced with amusement and something slightly sinister.
“This was not expected…”
Akira holds his ground, watching his opponent carefully, waiting for the moment he lashes out again. Akechi is strong. Not only as an Alpha, but also in the broader sense of the term. He’s resilient, powerful, and keen. His choices aren’t determined based on just if he can, but if he’ll be successful with them. It’s an aspect of Akechi that Akira has learned to never underestimate — especially in a battle.
To his shock, Akechi doesn’t react to the attack. He instead rises to his feet, brushes off the knees of his pants, and flashes a smile at Akira. “No wonder you’re the leader of the Phantom Thieves. Only an Alpha capable of catching up to me on this front could possibly hold that title.” He tugs on his gloves. “Though we should probably stop here. If we keep at this, we’ll both go beyond the point of no return.”
Akira’s brows furrow instantly, mind stuck on Akechi’s assertion. He tilts his head, lips pulling into a confused pout. Where on Earth did Akechi get that idea?
“What-” Akira’s brain chugs a bit, trying to push through his thoughts to create a sentence. “What makes you think I’m an Alpha?”
Akechi freezes, eyes narrowing as a smile dances on his lips. He laughs, an overly boisterous sound that seems to echo around Mementos. “All of your compatriots, save two, are Alphas. They wouldn’t simply serve an Omega as a leader.”
Akira’s upper lip twitches. “That’s awfully small-minded of you, Akechi. Are you saying I don’t deserve to lead my team?”
A low growl filters out of Akechi’s throat, and Akira’s blood runs cold at the sound. “Are you seriously admitting that you’re an Omega?”
For a brief moment, Akira reconsiders. There’s something troubling about Akechi’s anger. He knows what kind of image he must uphold as an Alpha, especially in the limelight, but to be so… hostile about a dynamic. It terrifies Akira.
Still, he’s never been dishonest with Akechi. He won’t start now.
“I am.” Akira rips off his scent patch, letting his unique blend into the air. The toffee swirls out first — usually a luxurious, rich scent — turned nearly astringent from the anxiety running through his veins. Coffee quickly follows, acrid and burnt opposed to its typically comforting, earthy smell — heavy laden with stress.
Two scents to undeniably prove he’s an Omega.
Akira watches as the realization hits Akechi. His eyes widen, pupils growing to swallow his iris — dragging all color into a pit of darkness. He grabs the hilt of his sword, lifting it so it’s above his head. “Arm yourself, Kurusu.” Akechi’s voice is deathly serious.
Akira’s heart stammers. His palms grow clammy within their gloves. “Wh- What do you mean?”
“We’re not finished.”
“I thought you wanted to stop,” Akira tries.
“That was before, when I thought we were equals. I won’t lose to an Omega. I’ll show you what I’m capable of. When we’re finished, you’ll be right where you belong — beneath me.”
Panic tugs at the edges of Akira’s thoughts. He shouldn’t do this. Something about Akechi’s demeanor is wrong. They should just leave.
But he may be as stubborn as Akechi, never backing down from a fight.
Reaching for his dagger, Akira nearly drops it as blinding, crackling red light consumes Akechi’s figure.
“LOKI!”
A large, lanky, and lithe creature appears behind Akechi. Black and white stripes decorate its hide, and it sits cross legged as it floats. A wide, sharp toothed smile leers down at Akira. Akechi mutters something and tendrils of red and black smoke curl up around him, engulfing him until his eyes glow with a manic energy.
Instinctively, Akira steps back.
“You may have won the battle, but I’ll win the war!”
Akechi lurches at him, and Akira barely scrambles away in time for Akechi’s hands to hit the floor of Mementos. They leave a dent in the ground. Such a spike in strength is alarming, and bodes ill for Akira.
Akechi stands upright, fingers flexing at his sides as he stalks forward. Scuffling backward, Akira’s thoughts split between trying to get back to his feet and run or to fight Akechi as he is.
Something tells him the second option is a very, very bad idea.
“Don’t think you can run, Kurusu,” Akechi drawls, as if he can read Akira’s thoughts. “I’ll catch you, and I’ll put you in your place.”
With Akechi confident and talking, Akira takes it as an opportunity to bolt. To surprise him and gain the upper hand. Akira flips himself over and barely catches his footing as he lunges forward, propelling himself toward the station. With one opportunity to escape, he pushes himself harder than before, running as fast as he can. They’re only one floor down, so if he manages to get to the entrance of Mementos, he only has that small space he must traverse in order to get out. Akechi surely won’t follow him beyond there, into the open air, amongst thousands of people. While they might see each other later, those instances will be in public, so it doesn’t necessarily matter since Akechi has a reputation to consider. Besides, perhaps he’s just shocked by the realization that Akira is an Omega. He could be fine by tomorrow, and-
The floor disappears beneath Akira’s feet.
His thoughts shake out of his head as his skull collides with the ground. A ringing, like alarm bells, echoes in his ears, but his body won’t move. He lays there, dizzy and confused, even as Akechi’s weight presses against his body. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Akira feels his coat being stripped from him and his trousers being unbuttoned. There’s hot breath and a tongue against his throat, digging into his scent gland. A silken glide of gloves curving down his ass sends shivers down his spine.
Knees trembling, heat burns through Akira as his arms are bound. Slick drips from his hole as fingers push inside. Akechi’s voice hits his ears like a crashing wave.
“And to think I lost to you earlier. This is pathetic. An Omega as he should be — mewling and pliant. You’re nothing, Kurusu, but soon you’ll be mine.”
“No…” Akira half-heartedly protests. It comes out weak and uncertain, like he’s conflicted about what’s happening. He is, even if he shouldn’t be. Twisting his body, Akira attempts to wriggle away from the iron grip holding him down. His struggle is in vain, though. Akechi’s scent soon blankets him, covering Akira in a layer of cool peppermint, comforting petrichor, and an earthy, fresh burst of eucalyptus.
It curls around Akira’s senses, lulling him into a tingly trance. Mind numb, Akira rests his forehead against the ground, muscles loosening as the overwhelming scent of an Alpha he desires seeps into his system. It’s the opportunity Akechi needs.
He plants a hand on Akira’s ass, spreading him open. He prods the tip of his cock against Akira’s hole, pushing in slightly. The action sends Akira’s heart stammering into overdrive and second thoughts rush forward. He’s a virgin, and Akechi feels a lot larger than the toys Akira uses for his heat.
No matter his internal deliberation, Akechi doesn’t give Akira the choice. He sinks inside, aided by the copious amounts of slick pooled inside of Akira. Above him, Akechi growls as he bottoms out. Akira breathes so rapidly, his lungs feel like they might give out. He bites his lower lip, unable to prevent a shameless moan from escaping.
Full. Fuller than he’s ever been. Fuller than he should be. Akira’s thoughts grow hazy, steeped in the delirious sensation of having an Alpha on top of him. Inside of him. He shudders with pleasure at the fact that it’s Akechi over anyone else.
“P- Perfect.” Akechi spits out. His hand shifts to the back of Akira’s neck, pinning him down as he pulls out slightly and ruts back in. “This is exactly where you belong, Akira. Beneath me.”
A fresh wave of slick floods within Akira’s body at the sound of his name curling across Akechi’s tongue. Shivering, Akira keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to ruin the moment as Akechi sets a vigorous pace. Whatever he has planned, Akira will obey. The idea of making his Alpha pleased gives Akira butterflies, even if Akechi intends to dominate him only to prove he’s better. Akira’s baser instincts relish too much in what’s happening. The way Akechi thrusts against him, burying inside him with every slap of his hips.
Every sensation grates along Akira’s brain, dragging his thoughts down into depravity. Akechi’s sounds don’t help at all. He groans with every thrust. Growls as he bottoms out. Breathless, he slams into Akira. His rhythm is strong — relentless. As if he knows exactly how and where to drive into to make Akira’s voice break.
Akechi’s façade slips. He murmurs ‘mine, mine, mine’ like a man desperate to stake his claim. Akira supposes he is. Supposes they’re not so different in how much they want each other.
When Akechi’s knot presses against his hole, Akira keens and begs for it. The laughter he receives in response is dark, amused, and possessive.
“That’s it. You know your place. You were made to take my knot.”
Akechi’s thrusts grow sharp and pointed. Each one threatens to split Akira wide open, and soon one does. Akechi’s knot slips inside, and Akira screams. It hurts and feels blissful all at once. He cannot believe this is happening.
The rutting doesn’t stop. Akechi hunches over him, lips grazing Akira’s bare shoulder. A rough hand rips open the collar of his vest, but Akira finds he doesn’t care. Anything goes, now that Akechi has knotted him.
Once again, Akechi’s tongue presses against Akira’s scent gland. It sends a full body shiver down his spine and temporarily distracts him from the first pinch of pain against his skin. Before Akira can fully register what’s happening, Akechi’s canines are lodged in the meat of his shoulder. He bites down, drawing blood, and euphoria floods Akira’s veins.
He has an Alpha now. An Alpha who wants him so very badly. Who went to such lengths to claim him. An Alpha so many people wish could be theirs.
An Alpha that was so very, very right. Akira belongs beneath Akechi. He belongs on his knees, sated with a knot and claimed with a bite.
Akira Kurusu belongs to Goro Akechi.