Chapter Text
The worst part about prison isn’t the usual unpleasantries that come to one’s mind when considering an involuntary trip to the slammer. It’s not the barely passable living conditions or the constant threat that comes with being surrounded by hardened criminals. No. It's the internal battle that rages on inside you when time ticks by without purpose. Day after day, the light at the end of the tunnel so distant that it may as well not exist. And with a mind like Dazai’s, one that’s physically incapable of not deconstructing everything and anything around him, analyzing it to the point of obscurity, it can take an additional toll. He’s had to take some creative liberties in order to keep himself sharp . However, he won’t have to keep that up for much longer.
He opens his eyes to see the same plain cement with cracks running through it come into focus. The cracks have an odd pattern, like a web a spider strung out on caffeine might make. Speaking of spiders, they are in most of the corners of the room. The fat kind that are all body and hardly any leg. The space itself, three cement walls that leaves the final side open to a common area, is only furnished with the bare minimum: a bunk bed and a desk. There’s a space on one of the walls where they are allowed to put up mementos, but it’s untouched; not so much as a photo or a card.
Everything smells like static; to the point where he can’t tell if his mind is inventing muffled scents or if everythings been suppressed down to a mere suggestion . Dazai lays in bed, a bandaged leg kicked out from underneath a thin blanket. It’s not a particularly enjoyable place to wake up in, but he’s been doing it for half a year now. That moment between slumber and lucidity when you’re adrift, before the cracks in the ceiling slap you back into reality, has always been one to cherish. Regardless, Dazai’s lips stretch into a self indulgent grin as he pushes his messy black hair out of his eyes. Today will be different from the others.
Today his plan comes to fruition.
He climbs down off the top bunk and grunts to his cellmate, Akutagawa, sitting on the edge of his own bed below, giving him the barest amount of a greeting. The sickly man with black hair messy from sleep practically jumps at his neutral acknowledgement, throwing him into one of his usual coughing fits. Dazai has to be grateful he didn’t end up sharing a room with someone more difficult. It hadn’t been hard at all to make the man fall in line. The man is so frail that he could snap him like a toothpick; a fact that they are both aware of.
There’s nothing unusual about his morning routine. The jumpsuit that he’s stepping into is a nasty brown toned green, like a rusty dumpster. It’s rather fitting. He heads down the barren hallway to the latrine. Much like everything else in this prison, it’s devoid of any form of comfort. The walls are stone, as is the floor, which slants towards a rusted grate just outside of the shower area. There are no curtains on the showers; inmates don’t have the luxury of privacy. Compared to where Dazai was previously housed, however, this place may as well be a five star hotel. He takes a quick shower, forgoing soap; all the products supplied here are blended with scent blockers and he needs to avoid those today. There are other omegas, all wearing the same green jumpsuits, going about their business, but none of them pay him any mind.
Crackling Mountain is a minimum security prison for omegas. Dazai finds himself here after a few years of good behavior in a maximum security facility. He shouldn’t be here at all , though, and he clenches his fists whenever he recalls that fact. He’s been killing professionally for years and his work is flawless . His alias, the Demon Prodigy, is spoken in hushed whispers, known for his incredibly clean, untraceable hits. If the warden of Crackling Mountain had any idea of the actual number of people Dazai has laid to rest, he certainly would not be living it up in a low security prison with the prospect of being released into probation in another several years. No, he’s here only due to one job that went wrong. As bitter as that makes him, he can’t change the past, but he can do what he does best: strategize.
It’s not until breakfast that the first step of his plan begins.
There is a smell in here now, still blurry and hard to identify, but it’s there. He’s lined up for breakfast with his usual brown tray in hand. Grey, green, brown; everything color in this place is fucking disgusting; an odd type of sensory deprivation. Staying on theme, the guard’s uniforms are a brown button up shirt tucked into black slacks. When he reaches the end of the lunch line, another prisoner on cafeteria duty throws beige slop carelessly onto the tray and then he moves down the line to where a guard, a tall man with blonde hair, hands him a little paper cup with 2 pills in it. Suppressants. He takes the cup and swallows the pills right there in front of the man, just as he’s supposed to. The guard gives him a hand gesture and Dazai opens his mouth obediently to show that the pills are really gone, moving his tongue from side to side. The guard shoves his fingers into his mouth without so much as a warning. Dazai feels fingernails running under his tongue and around the pockets of his cheeks, ensuring the pills haven’t been tucked away. His fingers were already wet, likely from the previous omega’s mouth that they were rummaging around in. He tries not to gag at the thought.
Dazai sits down at a table by himself and shovels the tasteless gruel into his mouth as fast as he can. Eating it fast is the best way to eat it; it’s better to taste it as little as possible. He finishes in record time and brings his tray to the receptacle before heading back to the bathroom. A silver-haired guard steps in his way as he moves to exit down the hall.
“And where are you off to?” he asks, trying to sound bold but not quite succeeding. He’s relatively new to the prison and quite naive in general. In other words: very easy to manipulate.
“The bathroom, that gruel is going right through me!” Dazai exclaims, holding his stomach and hunching over a bit to really drive the point home.
The guard gives him a look of uncertainty but doesn't try to stop him as he walks off to the bathroom. The latrine is completely empty when he enters as everyone is still having breakfast. He wastes no time, swiftly entering the nearest bathroom stall and jamming two fingers down his throat until he gags and retches, vomiting the contents of his stomach into the toilet. It almost tastes better coming back up than it did going down; the hydrochloric acid and bile give it flavor. He keeps going until he feels the lump in his throat of the pills, not yet dissolved, coming back up. He spits them into the toilet and flushes.
The pills are effective for twenty four hours, meaning that they will be fully out of his system in the next hour or so. And just as they are wearing off, they will be allotted their one hour of outside time where he knows that guard will be supervising. It will be harder for people to notice outside. There is only a limited amount of time he has to work with before he is noticed; he needs to make it count.
His target is a guard named Chuuya Nakahara; a redheaded alpha with a gruff personality. He’s been working on him for months; buttering him up by smiling extra sweetly at him and offering to help with extra tasks when he's around. More recently, he even managed to suck him off with the excuse that he just wanted to taste something different; not an uncommon occurrence in this facility. There’s something different about this guard in particular, though; something he can’t quite place. All of the guards are confrontational, and Chuuya is no different, but Dazai finds his particular brand of confrontationalism endearing, for lack of a better word. Perhaps Dazai is losing it, but he gets the sense that those striking blue eyes can see inside him. It makes him feel naked, which normally he would hate, but for some reason, with him , he doesn’t. That’s besides the point, though. He chose Chuuya because he is convenient, plain and simple. Dazai can tell that the alpha has a soft spot for him and today he will be seeing just how deep it runs.
He’s on laundry duty this week, so he makes his way to the laundry room where he starts this week’s routine of folding sheets discolored with age and ragged towels. The fabric is rough from the starch they add to the wash, lest the prisoners be comfortable in their clothing or even when they sleep. Living without a nest for years is rough enough as it is, but this place always seems to find additional ways to make it hurt .
Time drags on but as he comes to the end of his work he can feel it starting. He feels warm and he can smell his scent just faintly. God, he’s missed it; it soothes him more than he cares to admit. Dazai has never cared much for his own biology, only using it strategically in the past, and it will continue to live up to it’s usefulness today.
The thing with being on suppressants so long is that when you finally come off of them your heat will hit you like a truck, which is exactly what’s happening in the current moment. He can feel the sweat on his brow and in his armpits and his scent is becoming stronger as he walks around the dirt running track. There is no going back now. He sees his target already out in the field, standing nearby a couple of the other guards. He’s already got his eye on him. Perfect.
Dazai wanders a ways away from the track and sits on a patch of grass. Nothing too outwardly suspicious, but out of his usual routine enough that he thinks the guard will take notice. He places his legs out straight in front of him and leans forward towards his toes until he feels a stretch. He can’t reach his toes; flexibility has never been a strong point for him. His jumper digs uncomfortably into his ass with the stretch, the fabric having hardly any give. Stretching is irrelevant though, what he’s really doing is waiting patiently for his prey to come to him.
“Up to no good, I reckon,” a voice comes a few minutes later.
Dazai looks up from a forward fold, panting slightly with the discomfort of the onset of his heat, to see that the guard in question has strolled over. His striking red hair is tucked up into a black peaked hat, matching along with the rest of his brown and black standard issue uniform. It looks good on him; tight enough in the right places to leave you hungry for more. Dazai licks his lips before responding.
“Ah, CO Nakahara, have you come to tell me about fancy wines I can’t drink?” Dazai asks, continuing his stretching.
“Eh? You were the one that asked about those!”
As always, the guard is easy to set off, but not in a get-thrown-in-segregation type of way. No. It’s more innocent than that. It’s more like he simply enjoys arguing.
“You ought to try the batch of hooch that’s been going around. See how it compares to your… Peetros, was it?” Dazai intentionally pronounces it wrong, grinning up at the man pleasantly.
The redheaded guard lets out a barely audible growl, bringing a hand up to adjust his hat. Dazai can tell he’s struggling with which part of that sentence to latch onto.
“Don’t fucking tell me about shit like that, inmate. I’m a guard ,” he eventually settles on.
“I’m so sorry, officer, are you going to punish me ?” he asks playfully.
“Keep up with this bullshit and I just might,” the guard grumbles.
“I’ll be on my best behavior for you, then, sir~”
Dazai changes his stretch slightly, parting his legs and grabbing for one of his feet. In this position he’s able to secure his fingers around the top of his plain grey slip-on shoes.
“Well? What are you up to? This isn’t like you…” CO Nakahara eventually continues, eyes narrowing. “Normally you’d be annoying the shit out of the other prisoners, or at least one of the guards… but instead you are choosing to be on your own. And you’re stretching ? Something ain’t right.”
“I just don’t feel good, is all,” Dazai says, which at this point is entirely true. He’s feverish and he can feel cramps coming on strong.
The guard's blue eyes take in his appearance more deeply, focusing on his face, flushed with black hair plastered to his forehead, before trailing down to the dampness of the bandages wrapped over his neck and collarbones. He’s working it out, Dazai can practically see the gears turning in his head. Somewhere in the middle of his silent deliberation, a breeze rolls between them and Dazai can pinpoint the exact moment he catches his scent. He sees his eyes widen momentarily before his pupils begin to dilate.
“What the-” he starts, clearly thrown off.
“I don’t think breakfast agreed with me~” Dazai continues dramatically, rolling onto his stomach as if he hasn’t noticed his reaction.
He leans back on his heels, resting his head down to the ground and his arms extended out in front of him. It’s a pose that could be passed off as more stretching, but he knows exactly what he’s doing.
The guard chokes.
“Are you fucking insane ?” Chuuya moves towards him, trying to get him out of the pose before anyone sees.
Another guard walks behind them, a woman with black shoulder length hair.
“Everything OK over there, CO?” she calls over to him.
The redhead grabs him by the front of his jumper and hauls him up by it easily out of the position. Dazai has to stifle a moan. The guards don’t have to use scent blockers like the inmates do, alphas have enough control over their pheromones that they can simply suppress them while on shift. Even still, with this proximity, he can smell him faintly, and it’s delicious . Perhaps it’s the fact that he hasn’t been with an alpha since he was arrested, or perhaps it’s the fact that scents, especially good scents, are so few and far in between in a place like this, but it might be the best thing he’s ever smelled in his life. Like the first hit of a drug; just enough to get a taste and leave you wanting more. It’s enough to have him leaking into his boxers.
“Yeah, I’m just going to need to have a talk with this one, he’s being a bit of an asshole this morning,” he calls back to her.
“I hate you, you fucking pig !” Dazai plays it up for the other guard.
Chuuya jams a hand over his mouth aggressively, and Dazai lets out a muffled snarl, pressing his fangs lightly on the leather of the man’s black glove between his thumb and pointer finger. Not hard enough to puncture, but enough to show defiance. His teeth aren’t especially large in general, but for an omega they are quite impressive. They kept him muzzled for the first bit of time he spent in max. The scent gland on the guard's wrist is so close to him in this position; the skin over his Adam’s apple tingles in a way that has him longing for more.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” the woman nods.
CO Nakahara drags him roughly over to the side of the field and into a nearby garden shed, a basic structure made of wooden boards that have turned grey with age. He pushes him inside forcefully, and Dazai stumbles backwards before sinking onto his knees, his legs splayed out on either side of his hips in wariza. The ease in which the guard is able to handle him turns him on a lot more than it probably should.
The shed is small, no more than ten feet in either direction. Shovels and various yard equipment lean against the wall on either side of them, and sunlight filters through a small window on the far wall as their only source of light.
“We’ve got about twenty minutes before they come looking for us,” Chuuya says, closing the door behind them. “Are you seriously in fucking heat? How the hell …?”
“I don’t know,” he whimpers in response.
Lying has always felt so natural to Dazai; often more palatable than any shade of truth.
“I just started feeling sick this morning and then it came on. I don’t think the suppressants they gave me worked.”
He longs for a nest full of soft materials rather than the various scratchy materials of prison life, but the wooden floor boards of this shed will have to do for now. The scent of Dazai’s thick heat pheromones quickly fills the entire space, fragrant and heady, and the redhead is looking more disconcerted by the moment. There’s a sheen of sweat over his collar bones that peek out from the collar of his brown shirt which he hasn’t bothered to fully button up. His breaths are heavy and deep as he stares down at the omega before him. Occasionally the opportunity to fuck one of the inmates arises, but an omega in heat ? Never.
“Will you help me, Chuuya ?” Dazai continues innocently, leaning forward onto his hands.
He’s allowed to call him that when they’re alone. He’s always loved the way the name rolls off his tongue. The look on the redhead’s face is something between hesitation and thirst ; Dazai can tell he’s conflicted, so he decides to ease him into it a little more gently. One step at a time, so to speak.
“Will you at least scent me? Everything feels so bad ,” he pouts, looking up at him in a way that makes his brown eyes extra large and round.
The redhead sighs.
(He’s not obligated to help Dazai with an unexpected heat. He could simply take him to the infirmary, but there are a few reasons that that option is not feeling particularly desirable right now. The first reason being that he likes Dazai. He’s one of the more enjoyable inmates to work with, and even without a scent he has always felt drawn to the omega, not even getting into the fact that he’s also annoyingly good to look at. The second reason is that scenting an omega is enjoyable , and it makes his alpha instincts swell with pride that Dazai wants his help with this. And right now, he’s the only one that can help. If he takes him to the infirmary they will use artificial alpha pheromones on him, which will get the job done but he’s heard it isn’t a particularly pleasant experience, not anything close to the real thing. The final reason is that he’s an alpha in an enclosed space with an omega in heat asking for his help, and he’s not one to forgo worldly desires, especially not when they present themselves so nicely to him.)
“Alright, just relax, I got you,” he kneels down in front of him and at the same moment a wave of pheromones wash over him.
It’s rich and alluring, the kind of essence that makes Dazai want to bury his face into the man’s scent glands and stay there for the entire duration of his heat. He moans weakly as Chuuya lifts his arm up and runs his wrist over the scent gland on the right side of his neck. The sensation is almost indescribable, how all the bad seems to just dissolve into pure serotonin. The heaviness of pain seems to lift until he feels like he’s floating, skin tingling pleasantly with each additional caress of skin on skin. He feels almost detached from reality from sheer bliss.
Correction: he is detached from reality.
At some point he realizes he’s leaning forward, on all fours and partially over top of the redhead, who is practically on his back, leaning back onto an elbow, underneath him as Dazai rubs his face on his wrist like some type of oversized cat. His cheeks are burning with heat and he’s panting hard; the concoction of their scents mixed in the air intoxicating him further. Chuuya seems to be in a similar state; his hat has been knocked off and fiery hair falls over his flushed face. He’s looking at him like a predator; like he wants to devour him whole, like a snake.
He can tell that the man’s resolve is on the verge of collapse, and he takes the opportunity to run a hand down the firm muscle of Chuuya’s chest and abdomen before his hand comes to rest over top of his clothed erection, causing him to let out a sharp inhale at the touch. It’s big , not that he wasn’t already aware, but given the circumstances it makes his lower gut flutter in excitement and need . When the guard doesn’t appear to be stopping him, he begins pawing at the waistband of his pants.
“Please, please, I need it so bad,” Dazai begs and at this point he’s completely genuine.
His heat is making him mindless with the thought of getting knotted. God, it’s been so long. He needs it like he needs to breathe. Chuuya doesn’t protest when he unbuttons his pants and frees his cock, likely just as drunk off the scent of heat and slick hanging heavily around them. Dazai leans down and kisses the tip of his cock, parting his lips and taking the head in his mouth. It’s the best thing he’s tasted in a long time. The small droplets of precome already forming at his tip are more delicious than any food he’s eaten in the past several years. Dazai recalls him tasting good from his previous encounter, but not this good; his heat must be intensifying his desire for the man even further. Chuuya moans through closed lips, still apparently trying to maintain some shred of composure.
“You shitty fuckin- ugh,” he tries to sound gruff but doesn’t succeed.
Dazai licks the head of his cock with enthusiasm, salivating at the taste of alpha . He sucks on him slowly, savoring the redhead like a fine meal as the alpha’s pheromones become even stronger, caressing him in heavy waves. Though this is all part of his plan, there’s nothing to say he can’t enjoy it . Having his mouth stuffed full satisfies something primal within him, which has him letting out a gratifying hum as he works. His own cock, rapidly hardening, presses uncomfortably against the scratchy fabric of his boxers.
He chose this particular guard for a couple reasons, and he can’t deny that one of those reasons is currently keeping his mouth busy. Apart from that, Chuuya is also an attractive alpha; strong and well muscled. Many omegas wouldn’t go for such a small alpha, but Dazai finds his short stature rather endearing. Not that he would ever admit that outloud, opting to harass the man about it instead. That’s the other thing, the man is highly enjoyable to harass. If all goes according to plan, they will be spending a lot of time together in the future and he has high expectations for Chuuya’s entertainment value, if nothing else.
He pushes himself farther down onto his cock, letting it enter his throat. The stretch is satisfying, as are the broken little moans from Chuuya as he drops his head back in bliss. The redhead grabs his hair firmly but doesn’t try to pull Dazai off, it’s simply to ground himself. Dazai pushes his face down until his nose meets the red hairs over Chuuya’s pubic bone, taking him so deep his eyes water, before looking up to meet the alpha’s intense stare. For a moment it feels as if nothing else exists as they look into each other’s eyes. Dazai floats in the haze of endorphins and asphyxiation, basking in the alpha’s full attention. It’s glorious, but as much as he would like to keep going and swallow every drop he can squeeze from the man, this isn’t what he’s here for.
Dazai pulls off, taking a couple deep breaths as he turns around and unbuttons his jumper hurriedly. He slides it down to gather behind his knees, revealing his underclothes, his boxers wet with slick. He leans forward onto his hands before sinking to rest his forehead against the rough wooden floor, presenting himself to the guard. He turns his head to glance over his shoulder and sees Chuuya swallow hard. His eyes are dark, and he can smell the alpha’s rich scent practically pouring off him, filling the small space completely. It’s comforting and falls over him like a warm blanket, only making him relax further into graceful presentation. He still wishes he had his nest, but the scent of an alpha encompassing him is not a bad alternative.
“Please, please, please,” Dazai whines deliriously, putting on his biggest puppy dog eyes.
An omega in heat presenting and begging will turn even the strongest alpha weak, and Dazai is pleased to find out that the redhead is not exempt from this. He launches forward, dragging down Dazai’s boxers and burying his face into him. He licks one long strip from his balls to practically the top of his ass crack, collecting some of the excess slick on his tongue and causing Dazai to keen at the slippery friction. His hands wrap around either side of his ass, spreading him open even further as he continues to lap up the fluids that won’t stop leaking out of the omega. Dazai cries and squirms but it’s not enough .
Chuuya seems to get the message as he eases two fingers inside of him a moment later. They slide in easily, his body already desperate for more. Even fingers that aren’t his own feel fucking amazing after such a long dry spell. Fuck . Dazai’s always prided himself on not being tied to his biology like other omegas, but perhaps prison life has been rougher on him than he thought. He knows this is just part of his plan but it’s already hotter than he expected to be. He can feel his face becoming an even deeper red with the heat of arousal. Chuuya presses his fingers in a bit further and when they press into Dazai’s prostate he has to clamp a hand over his mouth to avoid screaming so loud that somebody outside might hear.
“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” the alpha chuckles, arousal clear in the deep tone his voice has taken on.
“Who are you -ah- calling little, chibi?” Dazai replies without thinking (he’s not doing much of that right now).
“Chibi!?” Chuuya sounds taken aback, and the word seems to snap him out of his haze because he pulls his fingers out.
Dazai nearly cries as he’s left empty.
“Wait wait wait- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll be good~” he begins begging again. Begging comes so naturally to him at times like this when all he can think of is how good he will feel when he’s stretched out on Chuuya’s knot. “You’re not small where it matters,” Dazai whines, making an attempt to smooth things over. He wiggles his ass, desperate for any form of stimulation. A face, a hand, anything .
“Not in much of a position to be getting a sharp tongue, are ya?” Chuuya growls, repositioning himself onto his knees.
He takes his cock in one hand and presses it against Dazai’s slick asscheeks.
“P-please please I need it~” Dazai pleads pathetically.
Yes, this is definitely all just an act. Nothing else.
The alpha presses inside him slowly, another wave of pheromones dropping pleasantly over top of Dazai as he goes. He sighs with relief, his head swimming with Chuuya’s scent, and the fullness that comes with finally being filled quenches the discomfort of emptiness that comes with his heats. The guard continues pressing into him, cock brushing over his prostate and causing Dazai’s eyes to roll back in his head. He eventually feels the rough surface of his pants press against his ass, coming to a brief pause fully seated inside him to allow the omega to adjust. It’s perfect. It’s otherworldly. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. He moans pitifully, grinding backwards onto the alpha greedily, desperate for everything he can possibly get from the man.
“Fuck,” Chuuya growls, grabbing onto Dazai’s hips and thrusting against his motions.
Every part of Dazai feels so good. So warm. So light. He can feel Chuuya’s cock pressing on all the sensual spots he’s never been able to reach with his own fingers. It’s dangerous. He could get lost in this. He is getting lost in this; not a single thought in his mind except for the gratifying sensation of his sensitive spots being pounded into; the feeling of being filled completely over and over again, building him towards climax faster than he cares to admit as he moans quite literally like a bitch in heat. He snaps back a couple minutes later with a loud gasp.
“Ah! Wait -mmph- I want to… turn over,” Dazai struggles to get the words out.
He needs to focus; to remember his goal. Along with that, his knees, hands, and face are digging uncomfortably into the floorboards.
“OK.” Chuuya’s eyes are hazy with pleasure. The way he agrees so eagerly is evidence that the alpha part of his brain is in full control, wanting to please the omega before him in any way he can.
Dazai immediately regrets his decision when the redhead pulls out to allow him to flip over, leaving him gaping and empty. Though it’s only temporary, it feels awful and he whines as he drops to his side and rolls quickly on his back. He’s covered in sweat, his tank top and bandages clinging to his skin as he pants heavily. He kicks off the jumper and boxers that are preventing his legs from spreading so he can open properly for his alpha, desperate to get back to it as soon as possible. Chuuya leans over top of him as soon as he’s finished, pressing back inside and continuing on with the aggressive pace he had set before. Dazai sighs in relief which comes out as more of a whimper.
The alpha holds himself up on his elbows, letting his head drop to rest his forehead on Dazai’s chest. Strands of red hair fall onto his chest and Dazai brushes them over to one side to expose his neck. In this position, if Dazai cranes his neck downwards, he can get close to the guard's scent glands. The scent coming from them is addicting and when he gives one a lick they both shudder violently in response. The redhead begins thrusting even harder, and Dazai can feel the base of his cock thickening with each thrust. Yes. Yes. Yes.
He’s getting close.
Dazai can feel himself going right along with him, his own muscles becoming more and more tense with delicious pleasure.
“Ugh, Chuuya~” he moans, biting his lower lip as all his senses sing with elation.
The alpha lets out a low sound in the back of his throat and Dazai knows the moment is upon them. He feels him start to pull away, hips leaving their place pressed against his skin. Fucking an inmate is one thing, but knotting them? Dazai knew from the beginning that the alpha wouldn’t do it, though he had hoped his heat might help persuade him. It’s cute that he thinks he has a choice. Dazai wraps his long legs around the guard's hips as tight as he can, winding his feet together behind his back to keep him pressed deep inside.
“F-fuck…” Chuuya murmurs.
Dazai leans forward, licking again at the scent glands that leave his tongue tingling with ecstasy before whispering in his ear some incoherent babble of “knotmeknotmepleasepleaseplease”. That’s all it takes to feel the alpha’s hips stutter as he growls deliriously into his chest, Chuuya’s knot expands rapidly, stretching him out deliciously. It’s been so long he had almost forgotten the way it felt to be properly knotted; so warm and full even before the sensation of hot come emptying into him sends him over his own edge. The knot locks them together, the alpha’s cock pressing against all the right spots deep within him; each additional throb sends a jolt of electric rapture through Dazai’s core. Chuuya fills him to his limit, to the point that he can feel his belly become slightly distended to accommodate the volume. He grips a handful of the guard's red hair painfully tight to ground himself as he arches off the floor boards, eyes crossed and unfocused and he lets out uninhibited cries. Pleasure, white hot and all encompassing, rolls through his body like a hit of some ungodly powerful drug, his own release spilling out violently onto his tank top between the two of them.
It takes him a minute to snap out of it, floating in the rush of endorphins and dopamine, his head tilted back against the floor. Dazai’s eyes snap back open. Chuuya is in a similar state, collapsed between Dazai’s thighs, face pressed into his chest in the divine afterglow. He will be slow and pliant in this state; he hasn’t begun complaining about the knot yet. Dazai lifts up a hand to brush it over the alpha’s neck, causing him to shudder. He brings his face closer to the redhead.
“Hm? What are y-” Chuuya starts, his words slow and slurred.
Dazai quickly closes the gap, sinking his teeth into the side of the alpha’s neck before he can finish the words. The alpha’s body jolts, but he can’t do much while he’s knotted inside Dazai and now also held in place by a savage bite. Dazai’s teeth sink deeper, breaking flesh and filling his mouth with the metallic taste of blood mixed with Chuuya’s rich scent. Biting the gland is nothing like he’s ever felt before. It’s like the pleasurable sensation of licking the gland or being scented multiplied by a hundred. He has to fight to keep lucid. It’s deeply satisfying in a way he didn’t expect, considering this is all just a means to an end.
With his teeth sunk into Chuuya’s neck, he has claimed him as his own. This alpha is now his . But the reverse is not true: he does not belong to the alpha caught between his teeth. Chuuya is nothing more than a dog that’s been leashed. His dog. And that makes him feel powerful . He would smile if his mouth wasn’t occupied. Chuuya’s hands come up weakly to paw at his face but there’s hardly any strength in them.
“Ah! You.. Errg-” the alpha attempts to fight back but his sentences are incomplete and trail off in throaty moans.
Dazai can feel him twitching and spilling more come inside. At this point he feels so full that he’s surprised some of it isn’t leaking past the knot. The skin over his belly feels slightly stretched and he moans into the bite when the redhead puts pressure on it with the weak struggle he’s putting up. Dazai has never been bitten before, but he’s heard they are a strange combination of euphoria and agony , which seems to be in line with the reaction the alpha is having. He gives up on fighting fairly quickly but his scent turns to one laced with distress, and he’s still groaning into Dazai’s chest, the fabric of his tank top becoming wet with drool. After a few minutes, Dazai relaxes his jaw, allowing the alpha to pull away. He moves slowly. Cautiously.
“Jesus fuck… you really are insane.”
Dazai is pretty sure that the redhead meant for it to be angry, but it comes out breathy, like he’s in awe of what just happened.
He brings a hand up immediately to hold to the bite gently, as if he was touching something special.
“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your new mate ?” Dazai replies smugly, wiping blood from his lips. “Can you feel it yet? Can you feel me ?”
Chuuya looks up at him, his pupils dilated so much his eyes are practically black. He’s panting hard as he continues the stare at him, not so much as blinking. Dazai knows exactly what’s going through his head right now. Once you’ve been bitten, there is an overwhelming urge to reciprocate the bite. One way bonds are considered a form of rejection, and can be quite painful, both emotionally and physically. Dazai isn’t sure how much rational thought is going on inside Chuuya’s head, but if there is any he must be lamenting his short stature; in this position, he’s too short to reciprocate the bite even if Dazai let him. Chuuya squirms forward slightly and Dazai holds up a hand.
“Stop, alpha ,” he says. “I don’t want to be bitten in a place like this. It’s uncomfortable and I don’t have my nest.”
The redhead’s expression takes on one of anguish, clearly feeling the weight of rejection in his words. His scent sours even further.
“I want you to claim me,” Dazai lies to soothe him.
The idea of having an alpha bonded to him while he has no commitment in return appeals to him greatly, but Chuuya doesn’t need to know that. He can string him along for now.
“Just not right now . First, I need you to help me get out of this place.”
Chuuya whines but stops struggling to get closer to Dazai’s neck. They lay there for another minute or so as Chuuya’s knot goes down and he regains some semblance of what’s going on.
“Fuck,” Chuuya eventually says as he comes back to himself, pushing himself off Dazai and pulling out of him, come gushing messily out onto the floor.
“I should have known you were up to something,” he growls, a mix of anger and disgust on his face.
“Well, CO Nakahara~ Will you help me?” Dazai asks playfully, beginning to reach for his jumper and boxers.
“I’ve got a better idea, how about I deal with whatever the fuck you just did to me on my own and you carry out the rest of your sentence?” the alpha deadpans as he tucks himself back into his pants.
Dazai knew he would be like this, and though he’s not actually upset, he frowns, letting himself sink into sadness and allowing his pheromones to take on the acrid scent of displeasure. The alpha should not only be more greatly affected by changes to his scent, he should also now be able to feel his emotional state.
“Wait, no don’t- fuck, FUCK,” Chuuya panics as he senses the change in the omega he’s now bonded to.
“Ah, so you do feel it?” Dazai says with a grin, slipping back into his clothes. “There are a lot of things in prison that aren’t pleasant. You better get used to feeling like this if you plan on leaving me here to rot .”
The alpha frowns but keeps silent, clearly trying to come up with some way out of this.
“It only makes sense, really, are you aware of what happens afterwards?” Dazai continues smugly.
A mating bite makes you crave the one you are bonded to like nothing else. And if the one you are bonded to is in heat? Well, that only makes the urge stronger. Worse still, a mating bite can trigger a rut in alphas. And while it does happen, going through a post-bite rut without your mate can be incredibly traumatic. Chuuya will need to get him out of here if he hopes to avoid that impending disaster. It shouldn’t be particularly hard in a minimum security facility, especially for someone in a guard position. In a facility like this, Dazai could have easily gotten himself out. The main problem is that after spending so long in a maximum security prison, he has no money and nowhere to go. All his assets have, unfortunately, long since been frozen. That’s where Chuuya comes in; not only does he now have a free ticket out of here, he also has room and board. The alpha will need to keep him close.
“I’ll think about it,” the guard replies in a noncommittal tone, still clearly in disbelief.
There isn’t exactly a way to be subtle about what just happened. Even if Chuuya suppresses his own pheromones, he’s still covered in the scent of Dazai’s heat. Not to mention the bloody bite on his neck. They pull their clothes back on and the guard marches Dazai straight to the warden, where he informs the man that Dazai has somehow fallen into heat and attacked him. Due to his heat, Dazai is fortunate to be sent to the infirmary instead of segregation. Dazai isn’t sure what happened with Chuuya, but if he had to guess he will likely be put on some type of leave.
A heat without his nest and an alpha is brutal and unrelenting, even in the comparative comfort of the infirmary. The endorphins from Chuuya’s knot and scent wear off relatively fast, leaving him entirely on his own. What’s worse, they’ve muzzled him to prevent him from biting anyone else. Dazai spends most of his time sweating, tossing and turning in discomfort. He refuses the artificial knotting device the nurses have and just suffers with the pain instead. Even at night, when the fluorescent overhead lights have been turned off, there’s still too many blinking lights from medical equipment and the harsh floodlights filter through the barred windows. They eat at his sanity to the point where he’s fantasizing about tearing cords from the wall and smashing machines until the room is nothing but black (he refrains because spending his heat in segregation would be far worse).
It’s the middle of the night of his fourth day in the infirmary when he hears a faint rattling sound. He scans the room until he locates the source; a hooded figure outside, removing the bars off the hospital window. Red waves frame the bottom half of his face that the flood lights are able to touch. Through the glass he can see him muttering curse words under his breath. A conceited smile spreads over his lips.
Dogs are always loyal to their master.
