Archive of Our Own

Jotaro prefers to fly under the radar. It’s kind of his entire goal in life, to just pass by without issue. He just wants some peace. To focus on his studies. To not worry about his secondary gender or what it means for him. College is supposed to be a place where Education is the point. The focus. The most important thing. He’d hoped when he started at this University that he’d finally be free of the pack dynamics and high school pecking order, that there’d be less fraternization, not more. And yet…

Within a week Jotaro quickly realizes that college students are not only Hornier in general, but they are shameless about it. Something about being a fresh and shiny adult out and about in the world makes Alphas and Omegas alike, a hell of a lot bolder than they ever were in high school. The staff at the University isn’t watching them like a hawk and hammering home safe sex practices, but there are condoms available in every dorm if you ask your RA. Jotaro hates it. He hates how liberally everyone seems to just be paring off or forming packs right away. He can’t seem to find a study group that isn’t constantly scenting one another and flirting with pheromones flying around all the damn time. It’s maddening. 

So Jotaro often studies alone. It’s the first semester of his first year at college and he doesn’t want to fall behind because he can’t focus for all the sexed up idiots around him. He thwarts any and all attempts to flirt with him with cold stares, harsh snarls, and leaning hard into his generally prickly disposition. It’s not always totally effective. Omegas tend to take the hint but the occasional Alpha that picks up on Jotaro’s subgender just thinks it’s cute. That he’s just playing hard to get or feisty . As if every Alpha is just living in their own RomCom or maybe even Drama universe– that they are the male protagonist of life, and that they’re just going to tame Jotaro by being cheeky and overbearing. It’s exhausting . 

But if he didn’t deal with it his own way he’d be filing harassment complaints every damn day. The last thing he wants to do is call more attention to himself. He learns to study late at night rather than during the busy hours, cordoning himself off in a quiet corner of the massive campus library to work on his papers and do his reading. It’s not perfect and he’s living on more caffeine than food at this point but this is what earns him the most peace. 

So why , he wonders, is his carefully curated peace suddenly being ruined? 

It’s half past eleven at night when someone suddenly occupies the seat across from him, setting their things down in a rush. Jotaro’s head jerks up from his books and he takes in the sight of a red head he thinks he’s seen once or twice around campus. He’s hard to miss, what with that strange lock of hair hanging over the front of his face and his dangling cherry shaped earrings. Jotaro watches him hastily unpack his laptop and set it on the table, followed by a few books and a notepad covered in chicken scratch. 

Why?

Why ??

Jotaro glances around the nearly empty library, the various empty tables, and has to ask himself what the fuck this guy thinks he’s doing, breaking the social convention of leaving people well enough alone. Why the hell… He gets his answer abruptly when the man across from him speaks in a tense whisper. 

“Sorry but when he comes by can you just— Act like you know me? Then I’ll get out of your hair. Promise.”

If this is an attempt to hit on him, it’s the weirdest one Jotaro’s encountered yet. The ‘he’ mentioned turns up mere moments later and Jotaro recognizes him from around campus, too. Mostly because this particular Omega tends to be pretty… Aggressive. He’s known for always being in pursuit of Alpha attention. If there’s one thing Jotaro can completely sympathize with, it's unwanted advances from the opposite secondary gender. Maybe it’s that feeling of sympathy that makes Jotaro briefly soften enough to consider doing as he’s been asked. A shrill voice cuts through the heavy silence of the library, preceding the Omega who owns it. His petite form is a lie. Jotaro knows this guy’s got what it takes to get what he wants, regardless of how dainty he looks. The Omega pecking order around here is something Jotaro’s tried to stalwartly avoid, but he knows enough to know who he’s dealing with and who he really shouldn’t be fucking with.

It’s this guy. 

All the more reason Jotaro absolutely wants to tell him to shove it, at least once. Looks like the red-head Alpha across from Jotaro is in luck.

“Nori-kun! There you are!” 

Jotaro immediately shushes the Omega. Harshly. Not even as a favor to a stranger but because who the fuck speaks at that volume in a goddamn library. The affronted scoff he gets in return doesn’t bother Jotaro in the slightest. If he was bugged by people disapproving of him he’d probably have gone insane by now. His own father isn’t exactly his biggest fan. The Omega presses a hand to his chest, looking at Jotaro with what probably, on most others, would be a very effective sneer.

“Excuse me??”

“Shut your dick holster, people are trying to study.” It tumbles, deadpan and dour from Jotaro’s lips. Maybe a little unnecessarily harsh but Jotaro’s had a very long… Well. Entire semester so far. His patience has less substance to it than tissue paper at this point. The Omega blinks at him and gives him a quick up and down glance, scoffing again, even laughing a little. It sounds more manic than menacing. Jotaro arches a brow at the Omega, who boldly takes a step closer and slams his palm down on Jotaro’s books. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” 

Jotaro looks at Nori-kun (gross.) who seems to be both nonplussed and also a little pale. His nervous expression makes Jotaro take pity. So much pity. The thing that most people don’t realize about Alpha’s is they’re all just a bunch of whipped idiots or idiots being led around by their knots. There’s really not a lot of sensible ones in Jotaro’s experience. He might be a little biased, but Jotaro thinks he’d rather pair off and mate with a Beta than deal with Alpha baggage.

So pity it is.

“His Omega. Now fuck off.” Jotaro growls, because it’s the best way to get anyone to back off. Stake a claim. Loathsome as it is, it’s usually pretty effective. Usually . Jotaro’s never actually been anyone’s anything before. Granted he’s barely twenty, he’s got more than enough time, but it still feels supremely strange to say. The look Nori-whoever gives him is one of both shock and gratitude. He straightens his spine a little and clears his throat, turning to look at the intruding Omega, raising one brow, opening his mouth to confirm if Jotaro had to guess but this Omega is not interested.

“ You ? An Omega? Don’t make me fucking laugh–”

“You wanna check for yourself? Or are you gonna pull your head out of your ass and listen ? You’re not wanted here. Boo. Scat. Bye bye .” Jotaro makes a little shooing motion with his hand for good measure and the Omega scoffs at them both. But. It works. Thank fuck it works and the guy turns tail and leaves in a huff, the library doors slamming as he charges through them. And then silence. For about four seconds, it’s nothing but blissful silence. Then this Nori guy exhales heavily and even laughs. It’s a quiet laugh but it’s enough that Jotaro’s facial muscles twitch in irritation and he wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t look up, turning his eyes back toward his studies. He did his part now he wants to get back to his course work before he’s too tired to function. 

“Thanks for that. Not many guys would be willing to lie about being an Omega just to get another one to piss off.” 

Jotaro’s eyes flick up, narrowing at the young man across from him. He didn’t lie. He’s never really seen a point in it. Disclosure itself is annoying. He doesn’t want the attention positive or negative that comes with being known for what he is, rather than who he is. He’s both irritated and relieved that this guy thinks he’s lying. Maybe that means he’ll make his exit faster. 

No such luck. 

“Kakyoin Noriaki,” Jotaro’s unwanted companion says, giving a little incline of his head in greeting that makes the unruly lock of hair that hangs over his brow sway slightly. 

“Kujo.” Is Jotaro’s curt reply. And that’s as far as he wants to take this interaction, really. He turns his gaze to his books once more but all the words are starting to melt together and it’s becoming a bit of a nuisance to try and focus. What’s this guy still doing here? Is he hanging around and waiting for the coast to be clear or is he expecting something more that Jotaro simply isn’t going to be giving him. He listens to the sound of shifting paper, the scratch of a pen, and avoids the temptation to look up. He can’t. He won’t . He doesn’t care. He’s not at all curious. 

A post it note is stuck by slender fingers that Jotaro notices are flaking with dried paint. It’s right there, on his book, unavoidable. A phone number and a name. 

“I’d like to thank you properly when you aren’t actively studying. I’ll get out of your hair. Give me a call sometime. I’ll buy you lunch.”

Jotaro has no such notion. He’ll lose the number immediately. He doesn’t give any kind of indication that he’s heard Kakyoin at all as he stares down at the number and listens as the man gathers his things and heads out. It’s not until Jotaro hears the snap of the library doors swinging shut once more that he finds the will to move at all. He reaches for the sticky little yellow square, intending to pull it out and crumple it up but he finds himself stopping short. He flips his textbook shut and stuffs it in his bag. 

Later. He’ll just throw it out later. 

Jotaro counts his pills. He isn’t sure when he missed a day but it’s only one. He’s back on track and hoping it won’t throw him off his rhythm too badly as he putters around his dorm room feeling bloated and irritable. It’s not the first time he’s fucked up and forgotten his suppressants. A slip up here and there is generally not a huge deal, at least, when he misses a pill in the middle of his cycle. Maybe this time it was too close to his heat. He hopes that’s not the case. He really fucking hopes. He has an Ethics paper due this week. The last thing he needs to do is sweat it out in his room with his laptop, feverishly typing away at his course load with a silicone knot squeezed inside for his symptoms. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he really isn’t looking to make that a repeat experience. 

He got an 86 on that paper. It was a nightmare. 

He swallows down today’s dose with a handful of ibuprofen for the inflammation and hopes to whatever powers that may be listening out there in the universe, that he can just make it through the damn day, at the very least. He knows his symptoms are just as likely to be pre-heat as they are to be his missed dose. Interacting with people is challenging enough when Jotaro isn’t an irritable, hormonal mess. He showers, scrubs his skin down with pheromone neutralizing body wash, slaps on his scent blockers, gets dressed, and heads out for his morning class. He’ll just keep his head down and focus, like always. Everything will be fine . 

Except, like some cosmic force in the universe has it out for him specifically, everything is not fine. Not even a little. When he sits down in the lecture hall, mere moments later who should waltz in and quietly ask:

“Is this seat taken?” As if the wide berth the rest of the student body gives Jotaro is ultimately meaningless. There are plenty of empty seats, but Kakyoin Noriaki has made a point of walking up to him and asking about the seat directly next to him. 

“Does it look taken?” Jotaro doesn’t want to deal with this. He didn’t throw the number out, but he figured that when he didn’t call in the two weeks that followed their library encounter, the guy would take the hint. Jotaro isn’t interested. Then again, it could be that Jotaro misunderstood the intentions behind the offer; that wouldn’t be surprising. People are way too tricky to try and figure out when it comes to the unwritten rules of social dynamics.

Kakyoin takes up the empty seat and pulls out his laptop, this clunky thing that is literally held together on the bottom with a strip of fraying duct tape. It’s the most absurd thing Jotaro’s seen all year. Kakyoin, whose clothes are immaculately fashionable and form flattering– The guy is stylish, not a hair out of place, and tinted glasses with the Prada logo stamped into the side of them, but his laptop looks like a relic of a bygone era. Jotaro has to wonder if it’s a first generation Lenovo Thinkpad . Does that thing run Windows 98? What the fuck. But while his brain is trying to puzzle this out, Jotaro slowly realizes he’s staring and it’s pretty fucking rude of him. He drags his gaze away from the ancient piece of technology and finds a pair of sharp, amethyst eyes peering at him over the rims of those expensive designer glasses. 

“My ex trashed my Mac. I’m borrowing this one from my father until I can afford to replace the other one.” It’s an answer to a question that Jotaro wasn’t asking aloud, but must have been pretty damn obvious in his expression. Jotaro’s mind conjures that waifish Omega that accosted them in the library a couple weeks ago and it’s actually surprisingly easy to imagine him throwing an expensive piece of equipment down a flight of stairs, though it feels more likely that he dumped a cup of iced coffee on the damn thing. 

“That sucks.” Jotaro turns his gaze toward his own notebook. He prefers taking his notes by hand. He remembers things better that way. The lines on the paper wobble in his vision, blurry and unfocused as he tries to mark the date in the top corner with a hand that’s less steady than he needs it to be. Shit . Are the symptoms getting worse?

“It’s alright. He’s been suspended from classes until he pays for the property he damaged.” Kakyoin sighs and Jotaro can see him shifting in his peripheral vision, straightening his spine in his seat. “How have you been? Classes keeping you busy?”

Jotaro glances at his watch and wills time to move faster. Where the hell is the professor? Jotaro doesn’t want to do this small talk shit. His skin prickles and he forces himself to take a deep, even breath. Mistake . Whatever scent Kakyoin is wearing to help mute his pheromones makes Jotaro’s head feel waterlogged and his chest a little tight. He clears his throat and props his head in his hand, elbow braced against the desk as he closes his eyes and tries to will the dizzy spell away before Kakyoin takes notice. 

“Yes.” Jotaro hopes his clipped tone gets across the point that he’s not up for conversation. If it does, Kakyoin side steps it entirely and continues, his tone light and congenial despite how disinterested Jotaro must appear. 

“I never got the chance to ask. What’s your major?” Kakyoin’s computer fan starts to whir, a low, mechanical hum that stabs at Jotaro’s senses. He’s more irritable than he realized. It’s a struggle not to slap the brick of a laptop right off the desk and send it down to the floors below. 

“Marine Biology.” His answer comes breathier than he wants it to. His chest is still tight. Fuck, this is pre-heat isn’t it. It’s moving quickly. Maybe he should have stayed home. He rubs at his forehead and his jaw tightens like a screw being turned, his teeth pressing together hard enough that they feel like they’re going to bend beneath the pressure.

“Interesting. I’m doing Fine Art. Funny that Ethics has brought us together. Our chosen paths are pretty different.” If Kakyoin is actually amused his tone doesn’t show it. There’s something almost disinterested about it and Jotaro can’t really get a read on the guy. Maybe the cloudy state of his head is to blame. He can’t really be certain. Everything feels so muddled and his mind is absolute mush. 

“Mhm.” He can’t get out much more than that. It’s just too much of a strain. Is he going to have to leave? Fuck. He really can’t afford to miss any more classes this semester. He feels so behind as it is. If his grades slip at all he’ll never hear the end of it from his father and their relationship is bad enough as it is. 

Jotaro’s face feels too warm and his pelvis feels heavy, over-full but also empty. The symptoms tend to come and go in waves of intensity. He’s trying to keep breathing through it until this one passes. Because it has to pass. This is just a hiccup and then he’ll be fine. He needs to focus. He needs to just make it through this class and go back to his dorm–

“Are you alright?” Kakyoin’s voice is softer now, quieter and closer as he leans into Jotaro’s space which is the last thing Jotaro wants or needs at the moment. His lip curls away from his teeth into a snarl as he lets out a low, warning growl that’s entirely autonomic. He can’t really feel bad about being a little testy with Kakyoin, it’s not like Jotaro’s trying to be an asshole. Kakyoin’s just not really picking up what Jotaro is putting down here, and so if his feelings get hurt, it’s his own damn fault for not reading the damn room. 

“You look like you’re going into a rut, man. Maybe you should head to the campus clinic.”

“I’m not–” Jotaro’s bark is loud enough that it startles Kakyoin out of his space as much as it startles Jotaro himself to hear it reverberate from his chest. His eyes snap open once more and he glances around the lecture hall to see that yes, several other students are now looking their way. Fuck, fuck, fuck– good fucking grief. Jotaro’s hands shake as he snaps his notebook shut and stuffs it back in his bag. What the hell is wrong with him? It was only one missed dose. This is so stupid. It’s like something out of a bad drama. He gets up from his seat and shoulders his bag. 

“Hey hold on– you don’t look so good.” Kakyoin’s stupid laptop sounds like a bear trap when the guy shuts it. It bounces off the inside of Jotaro’s skull, an angry, unpleasant noise that makes his head throb. It’s too fucking much. He doesn’t mean to snarl a second time at Kakyoin but he doesn’t exactly not mean to, either. When is this guy gonna get the picture? Jotaro is torn between wishing he’d just fuck off in ignorance so Jotaro could keep some of his dignity and wishing it would dawn on him that Jotaro was telling the truth so the guy would give him some damn space out of embarrassment. It takes way too much effort to get to his feet, his knees feeling watery once he tries to put weight on them. As he steps into the aisle he sways on his feet, dangerously close to losing his balance entirely, and suddenly there's a sturdy presence at his side, steadying him, and the subtle scent of Alpha hits him like a cement truck. 

"Lemme help you to the clinic," Kakyoin offers with such genuine concern and Jotaro almost shoves him. Almost. Some kind of self preservation instinct kicks in and he keeps himself from shaking loose from the only source of physical support his body has. This no longer feels like the usual aches and pains of pre-heat. This feels like The full blown event, coming on fast and Jotaro needs to not be anywhere public when it starts to really kick off. 

"No. Dorm room." He doesn't really want to rely on a random Alpha he's met only once before when he's in this kind of shape, but what choice does he really have? At least if he has an Alpha with him he's less likely to be accosted as he tries to make his way across campus. Moreover, loath as he is to admit it, he’s not sure he can make it there at all without the assistance.

"Dorm room? But–" Kakyoin stops short as Jotaro shoots a glare his way. He doesn't have time to spell it out for him and explain why going to a shared clinic for a dose of suppressants won't do him a damn bit of good. This isn't a rut. He's not just looking to get his knot wet and feeling extra territorial. Alphas don't know how damn good they have it. Jotaro is quite literally, becoming a danger to himself and others the longer they stand here, wobbling on the staircase.

"Fine. Okay. Where? Which building?" Kakyoin is blessedly getting a move on. He doesn't even stop to grab his things as he helps Jotaro down the stairs, out of the lecture hall, and into the corridors that are sparsely populated, but still feel far too suffocatingly full for Jotaro’s liking. He clears his throat and glances around, trying to make sense of his surroundings before the confusion and fever fully set in. 

"Building C. That way," Jotaro nods toward the back entrance of the building and Kakyoin leads him there with a strong arm around his waist. The guy is more cut than he looks under his soft, well tailored, cable knit sweater and behind those sharp rimmed tinted lenses he's wearing. They're moving too slow but the world still seems to pass in a blur as they step out into the blinding light of day. Jotaro is just holding out hope that he doesn't run into anyone he knows. The walk is not a brief one. Jotaro's building is all the way across the fucking campus, because of course it is, because why would it be any other morning than this, when he has to start his day as far away from his nest as possible. 

Bed . Not nest. Great . The brain fog is already here. He hates this. He hates the sudden shift away from coherency toward pure instinct. He can already smell himself, which must mean Kakyoin can too. He's bleeding right through his blockers and this has always been one of Jotaro's biggest problems. Even with regular suppressant doses, his subgender is so damn dominant he's probably more fertile and enticing than his own mother was in her prime. It's always been like this. Always . Jotaro used to feel ashamed about it and now he mostly just feels inconvenienced. Irritable. Kakyoin makes a low, rumbling noise as he tries to carry more of Jotaro's weight. It's somewhere between a purr and a growl and it must be sinking in for him now. It has to be. And honestly, kudos to him for not losing his shit. He's composed and focused on getting Jotaro to where he needs to go as efficiently as possible, cutting across the quad to make better time.

"Do you need me to call anyone for you? Are you prepared for this or…" Kakyoin's voice sounds a little tighter and Jotaro doesn't look his way. He doesn't want to see any hint of Alpha approval or arousal. This is just chemical, hormonal bullshit, nothing more. The fact that he's letting Kakyoin help, letting him get this close to where he's going to bed down and ride his heat out, is purely circumstantial, though he'd be remiss to say he isn't a little relieved that of all his classmates, Kakyoin was the one to step up. This guy at least seems to understand boundaries. He's not great at them, but better than most.

"No. No one to call. I'm fine on my own. You can just… Drop me and go shower it off." It . The scent of heat. Jotaro's pheromones which are likely clinging to Kakyoin like a film everywhere they've touched by now. Jotaro started to sweat at some point and only realizes it when his shirt begins to cling to his spine. They pick up the pace when the building comes into view and then it's just one last jaunt up to the third floor, down the hall, room 327. There it is. Jotaro almost collapses with relief when he sees his door and starts to punch in the security code, uncaring for whether or not Kakyoin sees it. Once he's behind the sealed door, he can just…

"Are you sure you'll be okay? This looks pretty fucking serious. I can alert the on-call staff and they'll help you." Kakyoin stands just outside of arms length, at the other side of Jotaro's door. He's not asking to stay or making a pass. When Jotaro looks at him, he sees a lot of things he really doesn't want to. He sees dilated pupils and a tense frown. He sees flushed cheeks and a clenched jaw. He sees frustration and true concern. It's gotta be the hormones talking but Kakyoin suddenly seems like a pretty fucking viable candidate–

"If you're that worried then get in here." Jotaro's voice is all gravel and stress and oncoming incoherency. He throws his door open and stumbles inside, dropping his bag and bracing himself against the wall to toe out of his shoes. 

"Heat is considered a form of Intoxication. An impairment of judgment. You can't consent." Kakyoin's voice is pretty damn strained and unfortunately for them both, Jotaro really doesn't need to hear Kakyoin making the 'too heat-drunk to consent' argument. (It really isn’t changing Jotaro’s mind, if anything he’s more certain he’s made the right call.) If Kakyoin doesn't want to come in, then he doesn't need to. He can fuck off back to whatever corner of the campus he appeared from two weeks ago and hopefully they’ll never run into each other again. If they don’t fuck after all this Jotaro doesn’t think he could stand facing the guy. He’d have to change his schedule around to avoid him.

"I made the offer. You make your choice. I'm shutting the door," Jotaro says as he turns and looks into the hall where Kakyoin is still standing, having not moved an inch since Jotaro went inside. "Pick which side of it you're gonna be on. Three seconds."

Jotaro waits and watches the ethical debate happening behind those amethyst eyes. One… Kakyoin looks at the floor and squeezes his eyes shut while taking a deep breath. Two… Jotaro is running out of patience. If it's such a damn struggle to say yes then… Three . He starts to shut the door and a hand comes up, quickly catching the paneling with a flat, open palm.

"Wait."

"I'm done waiting," Jotaro grunts and then he decides to take a risk. He reaches out and grabs a fistful of expensive sweater and pulls. Kakyoin doesn't fight it at all. He stumbles into Jotaro's dorm room and Jotaro shuts the door with a flick of his wrist, pushes forward, pins Kakyoin up against it with his broader, taller frame, and presses the button on the keypad that will seal off the vents to the enclosed system that will keep what happens in here, more or less, private .

"You ever spend a heat with an Omega before?" Jotaro needs to know what kind of Alpha he's working with. He's kind of hoping the answer is ‘no’ so he doesn't have to break Kakyoin of any unwanted habits from prior Omegas on the fly, but he's had to deal with worse.

"Yes."

Damn .

"Let me go over the ground rules before I get too fuckin' heat sick…" Jotaro braces his forearm against the door, above Kakyoin's head and presses his thigh against the Alpha's groin, checking for interest, and size . It's not that he's particular about it, he just likes to know what he's getting into. Kakyoin turns his cheek, grits his teeth, and lets out a deep, rumbling growl that hits just right in Jotaro's animal brain.

"I'm listening."

Jotaro dips closer, speaking near Kakyoin's ear, quietly, with intention, hoping that the soft, metered cadence of his speech will force the Alpha to pay as much attention as he can given the rapidly spiraling circumstances. Jotaro can feel slick swiftly dampening his boxers and sliding down his thighs. He doesn't have a lot of time to get this done.

"I am not delicate. I don't want to be handled lightly. I'm not your lover, this isn't romantic, you're doing me a service. We can say you don't have to treat me to a meal after this. We'll be more than even enough." Jotaro has to swallow a flood of saliva as he feels Kakyoin's hips shift and slide against his thigh, a rapidly swelling erection pressing up against him. Whether it's Jotaro himself or just his Omega pheromones getting the better of the Alpha doesn't matter. Kakyoin is getting hard and that will make this whole nasty heat business go a lot damn faster. "Don't ask permission. Just knot me. No pet names, no breeding talk, and no mating marks. Not even impermanent ones. I don't do hickeys. You can pull my hair, scratch, spank me, whatever, don't care, I'm good if you wanna rough me up but if I see a single love-bite tomorrow I will make your knot my new chew toy. Got it?" 

Kakyoin nods and Jotaro tilts his head to catch his gaze. His eyes are already so damn glassy and Jotaro wants to pull those scent patches off the Alpha's neck. He wants to get a sense for what Kakyoin is feeling and to indulge in the pure, instinctual bliss of a pheromone high. It's one of the only things that makes sharing his heat with someone else worthwhile.

"Got it… Just… one question…" Kakyoin's breathing is growing more labored by the second. 

"What?" Jotaro's snappy tone doesn't seem to bother Kakyoin in the slightest which bodes well. Jotaro's never been great at being nice in the moment. He knows he can be forceful, demanding, downright nasty if he's not getting exactly what he wants…

"Can I kiss you?"

It's such a stupid, innocent thing to ask but… Something about that question strikes a nerve. It makes Jotaro's cock and opening throb and suddenly he's aching for this guy. He's a weird one but Jotaro's had worse and weirder. He answers by ducking his head and closing his lips against Kakyoin's own. It's so easy, and immediately, Kakyoin begins to touch him. His hands are less steady than before as they slide up the sides of Jotaro's neck to cup his jaw and draw him in. He opens his mouth and Jotaro takes that opening readily, greedily, diving inside to taste matcha and mint on Kakyoin's tongue. Jotaro's hands clumsily seek out those damnable patches and he rips them off, tossing them aside. The scent that floods his senses is so clean– Fir trees and freshly fallen snow. He's cold and crisp and woodsy, with an undercurrent of musky arousal that makes Jotaro's legs shake beneath him.

All higher brain function is short circuited in an instant. Jotaro breathes deep of that scent and lets himself go. He paws at Kakyoin's sweater, dragging up the hem to touch hot, bare skin, trying to get more contact as he presses in harder. He feels Kakyoin's erection slide against his hip and he feels his body get heavier, the urge to drop to his knees and bury his nose there rapidly taking hold. The air between them is muggy, soaked with the smell of heat and slick and Alpha and Jotaro's so dewy between his legs, leaking from the tip of his straining cock and from his hole, throbbing for attention the longer they idle against the door. Kakyoin's hands slide up his sides, rucking up his turtleneck, pushing it out of the way as his touch roves around, grabbing and squeezing Jotaro's pecs, fingers pinching against his nipples.

Goddamn that's good. Jotaro keens and the high, reedy sound tapers into an urgent growl. He needs more than that. He needs those hands elsewhere, everywhere, stroking him, fingering him, anything else, everything else. He nips at Kakyoin's lips and pulls back from the kiss. They are wearing way too many clothes. Enough is enough. He stumbles back a step, and then another while fighting to get the hem of his turtleneck over his head. The loss of contact only lasts as long as it takes for Kakyoin to kick desperately out of his shoes and give chase. 

His grasp is uncoordinated at best when he takes hold of Jotaro's shirt and tugs it off his arms, tossing it aside. Before Jotaro can even bother to reach for Kakyoin, he's pushed, a hand to his sternum, and sent backward, tripping over his own feet to collapse against his bed. Kakyoin strips off his sweater, discards his glasses, and whips off his belt in quick succession, decisive movements that happen so rapidly, Jotaro's pheromone addled brain struggles to comprehend what's happened before Kakyoin is on the bed with him, crawling toward him, spreading Jotaro's legs apart with his knees as he prowls closer to hover over Jotaro with his hands planted in the bedding just above Jotaro's shoulders.

Without all the softening accouterments, Kakyoin looks like a threat. His soft exterior seems like a fucking lie in hindsight and Jotaro is glad he didn't see it before because he might not have taken this chance otherwise. He looks fit to devour Jotaro right where he lays, eyes roving and hungry. Jotaro's skin feels flush, too hot, his mouth getting dry and tacky without kisses to stifle his feverish need. Kakyoin ducks his head, dips and licks his way past Jotaro's lips as if he could hear Jotaro's need-stricken thoughts about craving another one. Maybe a few dozen more before this heat is spent. Jotaro struggles to get his hands moving, to unbuckles his belts and unbutton his own slacks so he can push them off his hips. The moment he does a fresh wave of his own scent comes gushing into the air, the sweetness of slick almost overpowering his usual smell of amber and ozone. He's been told before that he smells like a cozy morning in late fall but he's never really understood what that meant. Not until now. With the mix of them both in the air, Jotaro understands how a person can smell like home. Like Pack . Even when you don't know them.

Pheromone compatibility is one of those often mysticized things in life, and for once, Jotaro finds himself believing the fairytale of fated mates because he's never felt more aroused by the scent of another Alpha in his life. He sure fucking hopes his condoms fit this guy. This is fucking dangerous . He kicks his pants aside and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers while trying to keep up with the depth and passion of Kakyoin's kisses. His focus is strained, split, impossible to maintain. He hears Kakyoin start to purr and that sound settles so sweetly in his guts. He just barely manages to wriggle free of his boxers without kicking Kakyoin away. He turns his face away, gasps for breath, and Kakyoin just finds another target while sliding a hand down between Jotaro's legs, slipping easily through all the slick dripping from his hole to press inside while kissing his way down Jotaro's neck and across his collar bone.

The feeling of fingers dipping inside him, pressing and thrusting, makes it impossible to form words. He pushes toward those fingers while every instinct in his body is screaming at him to roll over and present. He can't move. Kakyoin has him fairly well trapped and his fingers slide out, trailing slick all the way up Jotaro's shaft, using it to ease his strokes as he curls his fist around Jotaro's dripping cock and wrings absolutely humiliating noises from him. He hopes the walls here are thick enough to dampen the sound of him groaning and whining at full volume. It feels so good but it's also not what he really wants, it's not enough, his body feels so empty, flexing around nothing. He has a need to be filled that's only getting worse by the second.

"Quit fucking around–" Jotaro's teeth grind together as he bucks toward Kakyoin's fist. He hates this part. He hates this agitated, needy, obscene feeling he gets. He can't handle it. It's so overwhelming and irritating. Being in heat makes him feel so much like his mind and body are not his to control and his muscles twitch and spasm with deep seated impulses as his ability to think twists further and further away from coherency toward the hypnotic, repetitiveness of instincts. A biological hunger that needs to be satiated. The longer he goes without, the more delirious he gets. He’s so caught up in this burning, delusional desire to be full, fucked, and knotted, that he can barely swing a hand out to fumble at his bedside drawer and drag it open. Condoms . They need a fucking condom but his hand is so uncoordinated that he winds up yanking the drawer so hard the whole nightstand nearly goes with it.

Jotaro means to tell Kakyoin to strip. He means to get a condom and shove it into the Alpha’s hands. He means to roll over and arch his back. What he does is reach for Kakyoin’s face, pulling him in instead so he can bury his nose beneath the hinge of the Alpha’s jaw and inhale. The whine he makes is so damn embarrassing . Inhuman. He can feel Kakyoin reaching in his periphery for the drawer and silently thanks the universe that Kakyoin is clear headed enough to still be able to grab for protection. Jotaro can only imagine what all of this must smell and feel like for him. Is he experiencing the same strange, homey euphoria while inhaling their mingling scents that’s making it harder and harder for Jotaro to focus? Kakyoin gets up, all long, gangly limbs, stumbling as he steps back and pulls off his clothes with hasty, stilted movements. Jotaro doesn’t have the coordination to try and take his own shirt off. He just needs. It’s such a heavy, swollen weight in his guts, to feel like if he doesn’t use what strength he has to roll over right now, he’ll never get there. 

He’s not sure he could handle looking Kakyoin in the eye the entire time.

Jotaro turns on the mattress and gets his knees under himself, chest and face pressed to the bed, legs spread in open invitation. Kakyoin’s growl reverberates through the room, like the purr of a large jungle cat. He sounds pleased and the smell of his is even stronger. Jotaro hates the keen that rips its way out of his throat while his vision fades out at the edges. He’s calling . Calling for a mate . Aching and open, dripping like a faucet from the tip of his cock, drenched down his thighs from his opening, begging without words. He feels the bed dip as the sound of a wrapper crinkling hits his ears. A moment later he feels the cool, pliant, wetness of a tongue dragging up the inside of his thigh against his fevered skin, a mouth pressing flush to his hole– Kakyoin rumbles and groans as he laps at Jotaro’s slick-soaked entrance. A tease that barely lasts a few seconds but it’s enough to make Jotaro’s legs shake. His body flexes around nothing, his back feels like an over-tuned guitar string, so tight, he might snap. He whines and buries his mouth against the bedding to muffle it.

Kakyoin obeys the fucking rules. There’s no warning, just an all consuming presence at Jotaro’s back and the sudden plunge of blissfully hot, thick Alpha dick right where Jotaro needs it most. His mind fractures and all he can think about is pushing back, feeling the swell of Kakyoin’s knot against him, rubbing up against his hole as he adjusts to the heavy intrusion. It’s been a while since Jotaro’s spent his heat with a living, breathing Alpha and it might just be the high of pheromones talking, but it’s better than he remembered. The jostling feeling of having his insides rearranged by an impressive, heavy cock is pure ambrosia. Jotaro shoves himself toward it and feels Kakyoin’s hands dig into his hips, gripping tight. There’s a nose against his neck, inhaling him, pressed against his scent gland– Kakyoin’s hips draw back, dragging against Jotaro’s silken inner walls, feeling so big that Jotaro thinks he might just get turned inside out and that thrills him more than it should.

The snap of Kakyoin’s thrust leaves Jotaro’s spine feeling struck, his skin stinging, and his belly distended. 

Perfect .

Blunt nails dig into his hips to drag him into every single punishing thrust as Kakyoin gets just as lost in the heat-blind as Jotaro. The purring and moaning behind him makes Jotaro’s head feel full of cotton wool as he drools against the bedspread, moaning back, openly, loudly, gasping for harsh, labored breaths that are only getting more ragged by the second. This was such a stupid, impulsive thing to do, but Jotaro does not care. He can’t care. All he can think about is how much he wants to clamp down on Kakyoin’s cock and keep it inside. He wants more than this. He wants to be knotted and– 

Goddamn does he get his wish.

The agonizing stretch makes Jotaro keen again as the firm, bulbous knot starts to slip inside, a little more with every thrust, pressing him open, further, to the point where he feels like he’ll be stretched out forever, gaping after he’s done here, and almost nothing sounds more appealing than that. It’s so close, almost there, the precipice of satisfaction. Kakyoin slams home one more time and pops inside and Jotaro’s body clings like a vice. 

“ Fuck – K-Kujo…” The broken moan, the swear, the sound of his name, just makes it that much more intense. Kakyoin’s cock twitches inside him and Jotaro clamps down harder, making movement impossible. It’s good. It’s so damn good and Jotaro feels like he can finally breathe a little easier. He hasn’t even cum yet and he’s already getting some kind of relief just from the sensation of having Kakyoin buried to the hilt inside him. For a moment, they just stay like that, tied, resting, breathing in labored tandem. It’s a brief thing, peaceful even. Just two animals engaging in a perfectly natural act, enjoying the feeling of being connected and complete. It’s shattered when Kakyoin bucks against him and one of his hands slips around Jotaro’s front to wrap around his erection. Jotaro’s whimper is feeble and the feeling of being stirred up inside and stroked by a tight grasp brings back that feeling of frenetic, desperate need. His need to cum.

He ruts toward Kakyoin’s grip and every movement of their hips tugs at his insides, that hefty knot pulling against his opening, locked tightly inside Jotaro’s body, unyielding its pressure as they rock unevenly together. Every stroke of fingers up his length sends a jolt of whitehot electricity through Jotaro’s nerves, his entire pelvis throbbing as he chases the ecstatic high of pleasure. Every inch of him feels oversensitive, receptive to all the touch, the sound, the sensory input both abundantly overwhelming and painfully arousing. He needs , needs, needs .

“How is it?” Kakyoin’s panting inquiry forces Jotaro to try and think. To formulate words. He doesn’t have the mental wherewithal to try and direct the Alpha, not that the guy really needs it. He’s doing fine. He’s doing better than fine. But maybe it’s just because Jotaro’s so damn keyed up, not to mention rusty that he really doesn’t have any complaints. All he offers is a nod against the bedding and a tight moan. He hopes it sounds like encouragement. It’s the best he’s got. For all that he hates the stereotype of Omegas in heat being whorish and helpless, he knows he’s exactly that, every damn time. He’ll have time to be embarrassed later when the fog clears, but for now he just needs release. He needs to feel satiated so he can cool off. The fever beneath his skin is burning so hot he feels like his sweat and breath are going to turn to steam. It’s agony but it’s also blissful.

Kakyoin mouths at his neck, dragging his tongue across Jotaro’s scent gland and the feel of it sends a wholly involuntary shudder down Jotaro’s spine. His body spasms and he whines. He whines for more of that. He wants to feel teeth . Which is exactly why that shit’s off limits. His legs are shaking beneath him, threatening to give out beneath the weight of his own frame and Kakyoin’s pressed up against him. The heat of him, laid against Jotaro’s back as they frantically try to find release with little actual room for movement, is so good and so bad and so damn distracting. Nails dig and scratch at his hip, down his thigh and Kakyoin’s heavy growls, his enervated breaths, are febricitant and muggy against Jotaro’s skin.

“Close… Shit… You have me close,” Kakyoin’s warning is low, winded, agonized near Jotaro’s ear. Jotaro tries to take stock of himself, to gauge how close to his limit he is. “You feel so… Good. So tight.”

Jotaro knows he feels good. He’s never had a complaint. But still, the praise strokes against his hindbrain and makes him preen and shiver and whine again. He’s so debased and out of his mind with pleasure and he vaguely hopes he’ll just forget his own behavior when all of this is over. He can feel slick all the way to his knees. He can't recall a time he's ever been this wet and anxious and just so totally and completely fucked. And this is only day one … This is bad. So bad. So good – He hopes how greedily he's pushing toward Kakyoin gets the point across. His core pulls tighter and his body thrums with the mounting pressure in his pelvis. He's so close he's seeing spots, he can practically taste it. Sweet, perfect relief. Temporary as it will be, he's certain he's never wanted anything more than this. He's so fully intoxicated on the moment he doesn't know if he'll ever recover or ever feel this good again. 

He buries his face in the bedding as he finally feels himself peak. The wave crests and crashes through his nerves, leaving him gasping and moaning in the sheets, digging his teeth into his bedding as he shakes through it and spills himself all over Kakyoin's fist. For one, seemingly infinite moment, Jotaro's world is quiet. His ears rush with the sound of the ocean and his head is empty. No thoughts. Just chemical peace as his body tenses and convulses around the thick cock inside him and he grows rapidly overstimulated by the grasp around his own erection. He feels the telltale stiffening and stilling of Kakyoin following not long after. He growls through clenched teeth and the way it vibrates in the Alpha's chest, right up against Jotaro's back, is enough to make Jotaro's cock twitch and drip just a little more.

It's truly unfortunate that they can't just leave it at that and go their separate ways. It'd be a hell of a note to end this encounter on. 

Jotaro's faculties come back to him slowly as he is carefully, dutifully tipped to his side so he can stretch out, breathe properly, while Kakyoin's knot is still trapped inside him, held fast by Jotaro's tense inner walls. Jotaro feels sore, throbbing where he's stretched wide around Kakyoin, but not in a way he dislikes. He exhales and just tries to relax, even if being spooned from behind a lot more… tenderly than he's used to or expecting is setting off some deeply ingrained defensive reflexes. He doesn't want to be cuddled. But Kakyoin didn't ask and Jotaro also didn't tell him it was off limits. Maybe he should have. Except Kakyoin starts to purr, low and gentle right up against the back of Jotaro's neck and it settles some of those testier impulses Jotaro harbors. It gets the better of him, appealing to the state he's in, strung out on hormones and pheromones and very satisfying sex.

Sure, it wasn't romantic, there wasn't much foreplay, but this wasn't exactly a situation in which Jotaro had the patience for such things anyway. Now that he's thinking about it, playing the whole encounter back in his mind, he realizes that Kakyoin did try. He tried to show Jotaro a good time before getting his knot wet and that… 

It's interesting. Jotaro's never really been with an Alpha who could keep their shit together enough to even try when he's just going into heat. 

Huh. 

"Can I ask you something?" Kakyoin's voice is soft, delicate, like he's hedging or nervous. Like he's anticipating Jotaro telling him to fuck off and usually that would be Jotaro's next move as soon as they could separate. Jotaro uses the knot lodged inside him as an excuse. He'll allow a little pillow talk. Just this once.

"Hm?" Jotaro doesn't totally trust himself to formulate words yet. His mouth feels tacky. He needs water. Should have thought about that before leaping into bed, but another ten minutes won't kill him. He feels some of that initial burning hot fever receding already.

"Is this why you never called me? Or were you really not interested?"

An irritating but fair inquiry. Jotaro sighs through his nose. 

"I kept your number." He doesn't really have an answer to either of Kakyoin's questions, but he thinks this will suffice. It wasn't his status as an Omega or true disinterest (even if he'd like to pretend that's the case) but a complicated amalgam of things. Most of them amount to one basic truth: Jotaro doesn't like letting people get close. But who knows. Maybe that changes today. Jotaro's still swimming in the heady, Pack cocktail of their pheromones intermingling and it's making him feel stupid.

"Then let me take you to dinner. After this… Call me this time." Kakyoin's suggestion almost gets rebuffed automatically. Jotaro's mouth is already opening to say ‘no' before the Alpha can even finish the sentence but in the end he stops short.

"Lemme ask you something," is what comes out of Jotaro's mouth instead.

"Sure. Ask away."

Jotaro mentally works his way around the question, trying to think of how best to ask it so that he doesn't sound like he's fishing. Not that it matters. It's not like they're going to suddenly start dating and be college sweethearts just because Kakyoin happened to be the right guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe it was the right place, right time. Perspective is everything which is why Jotaro wants to know…

"Why do you wanna get to know me?"

"Well at this point wouldn't it be weirder if I didn't?" Kakyoin's sheepish laugh puffs against Jotaro's shoulder and he tugs his hips back, his knot pulling at Jotaro's rim, still stuck, but closer to springing free than it was before.

"You weren't knot deep last time you asked me to call you."

Kakyoin presses in closer. Jotaro can feel his mouth there, closed lips wedged against shoulder, his nose at the crook of Jotaro’s neck, nestled tightly, intimately, breathing him in. It's quiet for a while. Maybe Kakyoin doesn't have a better answer, or maybe he's falling asleep. Jotaro closes his eyes and tries to make sense of this. He's so deep in his own head that when Kakyoin does speak again it startles him enough that the knot slips loose with an audible, wet noise that is absolutely mortifying to hear–

"I think– aah… my bad… haha… Sorry I didn't… mean to startle you." Kakyoin doesn't finish whatever his thought was. He gets up from the bed and Jotaro curls in on himself, breathing deep and even as he can while his heart palpitates wildly behind his ribs. A moment later, the Alpha is back, curling up against him, wrapping an arm around Jotaro's waist to drag him flush again.

"I was going to say that I think I should make a supply run for you. If you weren't prepared you're going to need extra water, meals, also I left my things in the lecture hall so… Will you be alright if I leave for an hour?"

Jotaro kind of can't believe what he's hearing. He rolls in the clutch of Kakyoin's arm to look him in the eye. He doesn't know what he's expecting but the placid concern and small, tense smile he finds are not it. Kakyoin is… Fucking weird. Why should he care about Jotaro at all? This is above and beyond returning the stupid favor from that night in the library.

"Yeah. I'll… Give you my door code," Jotaro croaks. He wants to blame his piss poor mental state for this, but he feels something. Something foreign and unfamiliar. It's not until Kakyoin is leaning in, hesitating at the last second, and then committing to another kiss, this one purely a gentle brush of lips, that Jotaro realizes what this feeling is: 

Hope .