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For all intents and purposes, Nanami Kento was a beta.
It’s what he filled out on forms, what he told others when asked after they failed to catch his scent, it’s what anyone who needed to know him believed. For the purpose of jujutsu sorcery, he’d learned from a young age to hide his secondary gender, to wear concealed scent patches as soon as he stepped out of the house, to avoid letting his instincts get the better of him when it came to fighting curses, who often took a liking to omegas more than anyone else. As far as the higher ups knew, Nanami was a beta, tall and broad for his status but ultimately tolerable since his biology wouldn’t get in the way of his fighting. Not that it would’ve even as an omega, but Nanami knew he didn’t have the clan status to point that out.
In any case, being a beta was easier, suited his lifestyle more. If it had been up to him, he would’ve been born a beta anyway, would have never presented in his early teens, a year before ending up at Jujutsu Tech. His suppressants were strong, accessed somewhat illegally through Shoko—the sole person Yaga had enlisted in keeping Nanami’s gender a secret—and he’d gotten used to life without scent, life without heats, life without having to worry about more than surviving to the next day.
Nanami sat back in his seat at a bar counter, a well-known hotspot for jujutsu sorcerers, not too far from the school but not close enough that students could sneak away to it either. It was a nice place, private and quiet for the most part. Aside from the sorcerers at Jujutsu Tech, it wasn’t a well-populated bar, reserved for the occasional elder who preferred life in the outskirts of Tokyo, away from the hustle and bustle of the city’s more populous districts.
Now, at half-past seven, there was only one other person in the bar, a small elderly woman Nanami had a passing familiarity with as she frequented a local café he favored as well. She could drink everyone in the bar under the table, so Nanami never tried to keep up with her, but occasionally he would stop by her table and offer her a free drink, mostly because she was always kind to him and liked to make small talk at the café in the mornings.
Nanami sat in the corner, the darkest part of the bar, lit only by a singular light overhead and a soft lamp a few feet away. The rest of the bar was a little brighter so the bartenders could see, and Nanami held up a few fingers to indicate his usual as one of them shot him a questioning glance. The man, maybe a few years older than Nanami, nodded and gave him a smile before turning towards the shelf of liquor behind him.
Nanami used the chance to check his watch, glancing between the bar’s entrance and his wrist. He was supposed to meet Shoko for drinks. She was probably the closest to a friend he had among his coworkers, as she’d been the only one he kept in contact with post-graduation and in the midst of his brief era as a salaryman, mostly for continued access to his suppressants but also for the occasional drink. He glanced at his watch again. They were supposed to meet as soon as he got off, and outside of emergencies, it wasn’t like Shoko to be late.
She had an apathetic affect about her, but she enjoyed drinking as much as Nanami did, and it was rare she missed out on visiting the bar with him. The bartender set two glasses full of a dark liquor in front of him, a small shot and a bigger, fuller glass of whiskey with a singular ice cube. Nanami took it with a polite nod, and the bartender shot him another smile. He downed the shot as soon as the bartender walked away before washing it down with his drink, and then he checked his watch again. A few minutes had passed, and after a second’s thought, Nanami decided to check his phone to see if he’d missed any messages from Shoko.
The air crackled with electric energy before he could open Shoko's message thread, a familiar rush of cursed energy registering deep in Nanami’s gut. Nanami stiffened. Behind the large, all-encompassing burst of cursed energy was another signature, smaller and much warmer, less smoky and liable to cause Nanami to choke, and Nanami let his shoulders relax a little even as he couldn’t help the frown on his face. He turned towards the door, and his gaze landed on the tall, broad form of his most irritating senior before sliding over towards the woman beside him, Shoko.
The pair walked in together, with Gojo a few steps behind Shoko despite his long legs dwarfing hers. Nanami bit back a sigh as he met eyes with Shoko, and she offered him something resembling a grimace as they made their way over. Shoko looked tired despite her casual attire, her hair dusting across her shoulders over a navy turtleneck, the sleeves of which she’d rolled up as she entered the bar. The usual bags still underlined her large brown eyes, but she looked as alert as Nanami could expect from her, unlike the days when she’d had it particularly rough and stumbled in looking like she’d be fine murdering someone on the spot.
Gojo, on the other hand, looked pristine, enough that it almost annoyed Nanami, and Nanami resisted the urge to shift in his seat. He looked alright despite his casual clothes in favor of his usual suit. He wore a turtleneck as well, one that’d been gifted by Ijichi for his birthday a year prior, a deep burgundy color he probably wouldn’t have chosen on his own but that he’d received more than a few compliments on. He kept his hair down instead of swept up like usual, had been far too tired after his shower to bother gelling it up again, and his sweater was tucked into a pair of light gray trousers. Overall, he’d been satisfied with his appearance when he'd left the house, but looking at Gojo now, he knew he paled in comparison.
He wasn’t bothered by it, not really. He preferred less attention on himself, but if he’d known there’d be more company than just Shoko, he might’ve remained in something more professional, if only so the lines didn’t become blurred as they were prone to in their line of work.
Gojo sported a look that screamed effortlessness, casual and undone and yet still enough to draw every gaze in the vicinity. Those being the bartenders and the old woman at the moment. He towered over Shoko, his broad shoulders covered in an oversized black button-down and a simple pair of black jeans. His hair was in its natural loose and messy state, fluttering over the tops of the rectangular pair of black shades he’d chosen. When Nanami finally met his eyes, he flashed him a wide, bright grin, removing a hand from his pockets to offer a wave, and Nanami looked away in a split second and back at Shoko, his brow arching.
“Here,” Shoko said, pressing a discrete package into his hand as she took the seat next to him and Gojo the one next to her. Then, she leaned in and said in a low voice, “I don’t know why he decided he wanted to come.”
“I heard that,” Gojo said, too loud for the previous silence of the bar as he leaned forward to flag down the bartender. He turned to face them with a grin, and Shoko shrugged.
“You were meant to,” she said before settling into her seat. She gestured to the package in Nanami’s hands. “Keep that somewhere safe. It’s the usual amount.”
Understanding dawned on Nanami. His medication. He nodded, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and shoving the package inside. He could feel Gojo’s gaze following the interaction, but Gojo was too self-absorbed to question it, and Nanami wouldn’t have explained anyway. Instead, Gojo turned towards the bartender, now in front of him, and shot him a charming smile.
Shoko shook her head to herself. “The usual,” she said, and the bartender nodded.
“Do you have anything sweet?” Gojo asked, and the bartender faltered for a second before pasting on a smile. Nanami couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at that, if only because he and Shoko had frequented the bar for a while now, and he’d never seen the man thrown off before.
“And non-alcoholic,” Shoko chimed in before the bartender could open his mouth.
Gojo stuck his tongue out, but he didn’t protest, and Nanami let himself watch over the rim of his glasses as he took another sip of his drink. While the bartender offered Gojo recommendations, Nanami took the chance to shoot Shoko a questioning look, and Shoko just shrugged. Nanami frowned. There was no real problem with Gojo joining them, aside from his penchant for loudness and dramatics, but it was unusual, and Nanami, to be truthful, had been looking forward to sitting with Shoko in companionable silence until they were both drunk enough to start complaining about work again. Shoko also, frequently, complained about Gojo himself, as well as Geto now that his execution had been postponed indefinitely, leaving him with little to do except help out around the morgue.
Gojo turned to them after placing his order, beaming, and Nanami offered a polite nod.
“So, do I have to ask why you two have been hanging out without inviting anyone else?” Gojo said, more glee in his voice than was warranted for the time of day, and Nanami arched a brow before deferring to Shoko on that one.
He had his answer: Gojo was, more often than not, somewhat annoying. Nanami enjoyed spending time with Shoko, one of two other betas in his life, and he wasn’t that close to Gojo. Out of all of his seniors, Shoko had been the only one he’d really gotten to know outside of work, and that had been due to his unique circumstances. She was his only real friend outside of Haibara, and Haibara was a topic Nanami preferred not to think about unless he had to.
Shoko, a little more tactful than Nanami, shrugged.
“You don’t drink," she said, waving a hand before Gojo could protest. “And Geto’s a convicted felon. Ijichi’s…unusual, sometimes— do I have to keep going?”
The two of them were the closest sorcerers to normal, and Nanami found himself biting back a smile at Gojo’s affront when Shoko finally said as much.
“Normalcy sounds much less fun than me,” Gojo said, and Nanami exchanged a dubious glance with Shoko. “So, you’re not shagging?”
Nanami choked, his drink going down the wrong pipe and eliciting a series of short, sharp coughs from his throat. Gojo tilted his head, and Nanami sat up a little straighter, gripping the counter in an effort to suppress his coughs before he finally turned to Gojo with a sharp, stern glare. Shoko grabbed his drink and downed some of it in lieu of an answer, and Nanami still didn’t understand how she’d become so accustomed to Gojo. How anyone became accustomed to Gojo, he’d never understand.
“Are two people not allowed to spend time together without having sex?” he asked, and the question was meant to shame, but Gojo shrugged.
“I don’t know what you do in your free time.” He stuffed his hands back into his pockets as he leaned back in the bar seat, stretching his legs in front of him as much as he could beneath the walled counter. “Speculation was all I had to go on.”
Nanami huffed as he grabbed his drink back from Shoko and the bartender returned, setting Shoko and Gojo’s orders down in front of them. Nanami shook his head and gestured for a refill.
“That’s a wild turn for your speculation to take,” he said, and Shoko wiped her mouth with the edge of her thumb before glancing at Gojo.
“Are you jealous?” she asked, and Gojo paused, his lips cracking into a wide, amused grin. Shoko returned it with a mostly impassive stare of her own. “I know you’ve been having a dry time lately, Satoru, but assuming Kento and I are together is one of the more insane things that’s come out of your mouth.”
Gojo grinned. “What, you don’t want Ijichi to get wind of it?”
“There’s nothing to get wind of,” Nanami said, cutting any next words off. “Ieiri and I like to drink, and you like to bother people. The two pastimes are incompatible.”
Gojo rolled his eyes, and Nanami caught a glimpse of blue over his dark shades. He didn’t mention, additionally, that Gojo was an alpha, an attention-grabbing one at that and it was easier to blend into crowds without having to account for Gojo’s overwhelming stench bothering other patrons. Nanami couldn’t tell now, but from what he’d heard, Gojo never bothered to suppress his scent despite it being just as powerful and expansive as he was. He knew from experience being around Gojo in public that it seemed to seduce more people than it annoyed, but having people constantly interrupting them because Gojo was present was unpleasant regardless of their reasoning.
Gojo shook his head, his bangs flowing with the movement.
“If you don’t like me, you can just say so,” he said, a teasing lilt to his words, and Shoko cracked a smile at that.
“Fine,” she said, waving a hand. “We don’t like you.” Nanami couldn’t help the tilt of his lips at that as Gojo gaped in faux affront, huffing out a dramatic, “I was kidding!” before taking a long sip of a reddish concoction the bartender had set in front of him. Shoko released a soft laugh with a roll of her eyes. “But since you’re here, there’s no point in sending you away. Maybe if we complain about you to your face, you’ll stop leaving shitty drawings on my desk.”
“Yuuji loves those drawings,” Gojo said with a wide grin. “Says it makes his day every time he wakes up in the infirmary.”
Nanami frowned.
“How often is he waking up in the infirmary?”
Gojo shrugged and held out his hand, shaking it from side to side. “Eh, maybe a few times a month? Way less than Megumi when he started out.”
Nanami hummed. He had only worked with Itadori a few times at this point, notably after his “death,” but he’d—perhaps foolishly—assumed Gojo would put some effort into keeping him safe, at least. He’d gotten his execution permanently suspended by pulling some strings Nanami didn’t care to ask about, and while Nanami was well-aware it’d still be in the higher ups’ best interests to kill Itadori, he figured Gojo’s interference would stop it somehow. Evidently, Gojo wasn’t too bothered by Itadori’s frequent injuries. Gojo, as if sensing his concern, straightened a little.
“It’s no big deal,” he said, flippant as usual, and Nanami found his lips pursing with skepticism. Gojo let out a quick chuckle. “He’s an enthusiastic kid. Works hard and has a habit of throwing himself into stupid situations. You know, a month ago, he and Kugisaki exorcised a near special grade together? Got poisoned and everything.”
“That’s hardly reassuring,” Nanami said, and Shoko laughed beside him, her eyes twinkling in the sparse light of the bar.
Gojo shook his head. “Nah, it’s great. We’re thinking about promoting them. Anyway, he’s a tough kid. He’s only died once, and he’s gotten much stronger since then. Once he works out the kinks of Sukuna’s cursed energy…” He trailed off with a smile, and Nanami released a quiet sigh, reminded himself that Gojo, for all his casualness, seemed to genuinely care about his students.
“Well,” Nanami said, changing the subject. “Itadori isn’t privy to the drawings in my pockets, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped those, at least.”
Gojo grinned, and Shoko let out a soft, tinkling laugh.
“But those are just fun.”
“Giving me a drawing of a penis is fun?”
Shoko paused at that, turning to Nanami with a sharp laugh, and Nanami could tell the alcohol was finally hitting her, just as it was beginning to hit him, loosening them both up.
“A penis?” she asked, and Nanami couldn’t help chuckling at that, nodding. “Satoru, most people ask for dinner first,” she said, and Nanami found himself laughing at the scandalized look that crossed Gojo’s face.
“Or coffee, at least,” Nanami said, appreciating the way Gojo’s neck blossomed with a faint red even as he wrinkled his nose in protest. Nanami’s lips cracked into a smile. It was nice, for once, Gojo being at the other end of someone’s teasing, and Shoko seemed to agree as she glanced at him with a sharp edge to her grin.
“Surely someone like you can afford to at least offer incentive,” she said, and Gojo paused at that, turning towards the pair with a huff.
“The incentives come with the package,” he said, and despite being at the butt end of the joke, the edges of his lips were still curled into a faint smile as he leaned back, waving a hand over himself with a tilt of his head. “Haven’t you seen me?”
Shoko snorted. “Unfortunately,” she said, under her breath this time, and Nanami chuckled to himself before downing the rest of his drink.
For a while, they all sat like that, an easy atmosphere flowing between them, and Nanami found himself grateful that Shoko had been there to break the ice. He and Gojo got along well enough, but it was rare he went long without Gojo saying or doing something with the sole intent of pissing him off, so having Shoko there made it easy to turn the tables, to engage in the teasing Gojo himself enjoyed so much. Watching the way Gojo scoffed and spluttered under their jabs made up for it, and Nanami found himself understanding the fun in it, now.
It was nearing midnight, and Nanami was wholly inebriated by the time their conversation came to an end, his skin warm with the heat of alcohol, his lips curled into a near-permanent smile. He remembered easily why he enjoyed hanging out with Shoko, and for once, Gojo’s company wasn’t insufferable either. Nanami smiled as Shoko pushed herself to unsteady feet, standing up to help her with a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s time to go,” she said, and she was more composed than she should’ve been for how much Nanami had watched her consume, her words only slurring a bit. “Coming over?”
Nanami shook his head. They’d become accustomed to ending the nights crashing at one or the other’s place, but he’d received a new case file this morning, and even he knew ending up blackout drunk on Shoko's couch wouldn’t be conducive to whatever case he’d been assigned. He needed to wake up at a reasonable time tomorrow.
“Not this time.” Gojo followed behind them as Nanami and Shoko made their way to the door. The bar wouldn’t close for another hour or two, but Shoko had a decent stash of liquor herself, so it was tempting to forgo a full nights’ sleep in favor of it. Instead, he watched as Shoko called a cab for herself, and the three of them waited until yellow headlights turned down the quiet road, and Shoko waved goodbye.
“You’re not getting a cab for yourself?” Gojo asked, and Nanami shook his head.
“My apartment isn’t as far from here as the school is.” He’d made a deal with Yaga a while back to let him live off campus, even if he spent most of his day on the school grounds anyway, and Yaga had agreed so long as he kept regular hours, which Nanami had done easily. “A ten-minute walk.”
Gojo nodded. “I’ll walk with you,” he said, and Nanami was feeling amicable and drunk enough that he didn’t mind, so instead of denying him, he only turned and set off in the direction of his apartment. “How often do you and Ieiri do this?”
Nanami hummed, his voice sounding loud to himself in the still air of the night. “Once a month, usually. Sometimes more if either of us have the time, though we rarely do.”
“You—” He paused, cocking his head, and Nanami glanced at him, his stare lingering longer than he cared to admit.
In the dark, Gojo was harder to see, illuminated only by the occasional streetlamp. But Nanami was more than familiar enough with the contours of his face to make out his features, his sharp jawline, his delicate cheekbones, the purse of his pink lips. Gojo came to a halt, and Nanami stumbled a little, catching himself before he fell and made a fool of himself. He was a little too inebriated to stop himself from tripping at all, but he had enough wherewithal to come to a slow stop before he met Gojo’s eyes.
Gojo had his head tilted up now, and after a second, Nanami felt it too. The stench of cursed energy, radiating from somewhere nearby. He figured Gojo had a more precise location on it than he did, and Gojo frowned.
“You sense that too, right?” he asked, and Nanami nodded. “Near the park. Not far. Grade two, probably.” Gojo hummed. “Normally I’d leave it seeing as it’s not very powerful.” He turned to Nanami finally, his blue eyes gleaming in the dark as he peered at him over his shades, those lips curling into a smirk. Nanami cleared his throat and looked away, straightening his jacket before turning towards the source of the curse. “But I know a fun way to sober you up.”
Nanami scoffed. “I suspect you’re just wanting to see me lose,” he said, and Gojo’s grin widened. “I’m off the clock.”
“Oh, come on, Nanamin.” Nanami didn’t bother correcting him about the stupid affectation he’d picked up from Itadori anymore, and Gojo continued on, slinging an arm around Nanami’s shoulder and steering him in the direction of the curse. “What’s the worst that could happen? I’m sure Ieiri’s not so drunk she couldn’t heal you.”
A dry, dull snort.
“Only to prevent it from becoming a special grade,” he said, and he knew he wasn’t quite sober, but he had enough faith in his abilities that he could handle a grade two, in any case. More than that, Gojo, for all of his teasing, would likely step in if something went wrong, if only to avoid the paperwork they’d have to fill out in the event of serious injury or anything else indicating the curse had been something to worry about.
When they reached the curse, it looked even weaker than they had initially suspected, enough that Nanami wasn’t even certain he’d need his blade for it. Neither of them looked at the curse directly, instead walking past it and into the alleyway beside it as if they hadn’t seen it. They came to a halt a couple feet away, and Gojo tugged him to lean against the wall as if they weren’t keenly aware of the curse’s every move.
It wasn’t a large thing, the size of a small dog, green and ugly, a wormlike blob that sported more than a few eyes. Each eye blinked one at a time, but for the most part, it seemed oblivious to the two watching it, making a keening sound as it slithered atop a dumpster.
Nanami raised a hand, and in one swift swipe, the curse burst into two. Nanami was used to curses splattering at the hands of his technique, grateful he was wearing burgundy at least as its blood flooded the area, landing everywhere except on Gojo, blocked by his infinity. He hadn’t, however, been expecting the high-pitched, shrill sound that echoed in the alleyway after the curse’s death, the quantity of blood big enough to have come from a curse several grades higher and enough to drench him, splattering across his shirt, his pants, his cheek, and into his hair. Gojo paused before a bright laugh escaped, and Nanami was too drunk to do more than shoot him a sharp stare that bordered on a glare.
“Are you sober now?” Gojo asked in between his laughter, pulling away to keel over, his hand crossing over his stomach, and Nanami released a long, heavy sigh, suddenly recalling why he never spent any time around Gojo.
“I’m going home,” is all he said, and then he left Gojo, still laughing, in the alleyway and headed to his apartment.
When he made it inside—Gojo, luckily, had gotten the hint and hadn’t followed him—he slipped off his shoes and stuck his feet into a pair of slippers before making a beeline towards his shower. He took his shirt off in one swift motion, running a hand through his hair, damp with blood that at least wasn’t his own, and tossed it into the laundry hamper that he kept in the corner of his bathroom. He was careful not to touch anything as he stripped off the rest of his clothes, peeling off the scent patches below his neck and on his wrists. He sighed as they were exposed to the warm air of his bathroom, rolling his neck and letting his shoulders relax.
He'd gotten used to having this part of him suppressed by now where he had once hated the feeling of the patches on his most sensitive areas. However, even after learning to ignore them, he still found himself relaxing as soon as they came off, rubbing a soothing hand over his glands and letting himself sink into his own touch, a quiet rumble escaping his throat. He was careful not to smear the curse’s blood over the rest of his skin as he stepped into the hot water of his shower, the bathroom fully steamed.
Being drunk like this, it was easy to let his mind run blank under the steady stream, his hands moving on autopilot as he worked the gunk out of his hair and off of his skin, idly watching the purple goo drain down the tub. He considered taking a bath someday and reminded himself to set a date to do it, where he’d get off on time and devote an hour to filling up his tub and sinking into it, relaxing with a good book. The tense muscles in his back unclenched as he washed himself, the gentle, inoffensive scent of his soap coaxing him, and he only stepped out of the shower when his eyes began to close and the water ran cool.
He dried off before wrapping a cotton towel around his waist, and as soon as he sank into his bed, pajamas be damned, he found himself asleep, lulled under by the familiar buzz of alcohol.
-
The first indication something was wrong should’ve been the way he woke up sweating, his sheets soaked to the bone even though it was the middle of winter and he’d slept naked. It wasn’t common he slept naked, usually reserved for drunken nights, and while Nanami was well aware that alcohol tended to make him run warm, he probably would’ve questioned it more were it not for the dull headache that thrummed through him.
He'd made it to the school with no problem, committed to his usual morning routine and made it to one of the empty classrooms where he settled in for the day and pulled out his casework. He read the case and processed most of it, stopping to reread sentences a few times, and it wasn’t until he was halfway through that his headache grew, increasing into a sharp, pointed pain, beating against the front of his skull. He released a quiet groan, paused his work to rest his head in his hands for a few moments, and the smell of his coffee permeated his senses until he was nauseated from the scent that usually served to wake him up.
He released a quiet sigh, grabbing the coffee with a single hand and tossing it into the trash by the desk. He wasn’t prone to hangovers, and when he did get the occasional one, it was always bearable, easy to ignore after a pill or two. Now, his brain felt like it was crashing against his skull in an attempt to escape, every inch of light piercing and annoying, his hackles raising. He considered a few options as best as he could through the pain—take medicine and continue on, request a day of absence, rest for a few minutes and wait for it to subside. He swallowed hard. It was hard to think, to establish a logical path between each stray thought when they were all interrupted with bursts of pain. He took in a deep breath, his eyes squeezing shut.
He didn’t remember when he passed out.
-
Gojo whistled to himself as he ambled through the halls of Jujutsu Tech, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his uniform as he fiddled with a few stray candy wrappers, rolling them between long, thin fingers. The first years were off on a mission, supervised by Ijichi, and the second years were, probably, doing something equally important. Regardless, Gojo had a rare moment of free time this morning, and he found himself more bored than anything.
He sighed to himself and considered hopping down to the morgue to bother Geto and Shoko. Geto spent most of his time there these days at the advice of Yaga; they all knew Gojo had done more than a little menacing to withhold his execution, and it was best if Geto kept to himself for the time being, lest the higher ups find a way around Gojo’s threats. Gojo still made an effort to spend time with him when he could. He’d lost his best friend a long time ago, and they were both new people now. It only made sense to get to know the new Geto for who he was, and if there were the occasional remnants of the man he’d grown up with, then that was a mere benefit.
Gojo found himself heading towards the vending machines on the second floor as he considered it. Geto never really ate when he was down in the morgue, and Gojo admitted it was amusing to taunt Geto by waving snacks in front of his face whilst he fussed about the germs. For a man who ate curses, Geto was rather queasy when it came to hygiene, and Gojo sometimes wondered if it was a byproduct of his curse consumption rather than antithetical to it.
Gojo sniffed, his train of thought coming to an abrupt halt in front of the vending machines. He paused, sniffing again and leaning forward towards the machine—had they always smelled? The scent was an unfamiliar one, something he couldn’t put his finger on because he’d certainly never smelled it before. It was unique, tinged with a musk that made the buds on his tongue tingle, and Gojo found himself frowning with the realization that it belonged to a person. An invader, maybe?
It wasn’t common for people to find their way on campus, and Gojo knew well enough that when they did, it was only ever with the hopes of killing someone. He bit back a groan, pouting at the vending machine for a brief moment before he shook his head and closed his eyes, zeroing in on the scent. It wasn’t a familiar one; he could pick out Geto’s scent amidst the crowded streets of Roppongi from miles away. This scent was new, fresh, and though it didn’t betray bad intentions, Gojo had known people who figured out how to disguise their scents' emotional profile.
He took a deep inhale and followed the smell. By the vending machines, it hadn’t been particularly potent, subtle enough that Gojo hadn’t noticed it at first. As he edged closer to its source, following it down the hallway and towards one of the lesser used classrooms, it grew stronger, raising the hair on the back of his neck, and his eyes narrowed behind the dark fabric of his blindfold. A dull thrum of cursed energy made itself clearer now, hidden by the sheer novelty of an unfamiliar scent, and Gojo frowned as he recognized its signature.
“Nanamin?” He came to a halt in front of the door, turning his head to the side and listening carefully for the sounds of movement. “You know it’s unprofessional to spray pheromones on campus,” he said, teasing mostly, though he wouldn’t put it past Nanami to spray something without full knowledge of how it’d affect the alphas around him. He found himself taking in another deep inhale, the scent washing over him, and he was certain it didn’t belong to an intruder anymore as it warmed his skin, settling against him like a thin blanket. “Nanamin?” His voice escaped huskier than he’d intended.
After a few more seconds of silence, Gojo decided that annoying Nanami a little was better than leaving without an explanation, and he pushed the door open with one smooth shove. The room was empty, save for a singular blond sorcerer, and Gojo processed the situation at hand much faster than he intended to. Nanami was hunched over his desk, his head buried in his arms, his back heaving with steady, even breaths. Gojo didn’t have to ask to recognize that his junior wasn’t feeling well, and he didn’t think he would’ve received an answer anyway as Nanami’s eyes remained shut, his hair plastered with sweat.
It was only now, after the full force of the scent from earlier stunned Gojo to silence, that he recognized it for what it was: an omega in heat. His instincts sent him a flurry of messages, more than a few of them telling him to seek out the omega, to fix it, to protect them, and Gojo stilled, forced himself not to act on them. The alpha in him raged against his inaction, and Gojo ignored it as he took a step closer to Nanami. The scent radiated off of him like a beacon, begging Gojo to do something about it, and it took every ounce of restraint Gojo had to land one hand on Nanami’s forehead to confirm what he already knew.
Nanami was feverish, his skin flushed with red, and Gojo had no clue why Nanami had hidden for over a decade the fact that he was an omega, but he knew Nanami would be pissed when he came to his right mind and realized that Gojo was now privy to that bit of information. Gojo paused to think for a second, and Nanami’s scent muddied his thoughts, blanketing them with the urge to sit him up and do whatever it would take to soothe his heat. The room warmed several degrees, and Gojo released a quiet swear before he caved and removed his uniform jacket to reveal a plain white tee underneath.
A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck, and he ignored it as he crouched down in front of Nanami, peering. Nanami wasn’t conscious, that much was clear. He likely had no idea he was emitting his scent, and for the first time ever, Gojo caught sight of the edges of a clear scent patch, just below his collar. It was hard to process the situation with Nanami’s scent overwhelming his senses, hard to resist the alpha in him beating hard against his chest, demanding to grab Nanami and hold him close, to keep him forever, to make sure no one else had the pleasure of smelling him like this.
Gojo swallowed hard. He wasn’t Nanami’s alpha, didn’t even know if Nanami had an alpha though there wasn’t any mating mark on him as far as he could tell.
“Alright,” he muttered to himself, tearing his gaze away from Nanami and towards the wall. “Alright, Ieiri. Ieiri probably knows what the fuck is going on.”
He cocked his head at the sound of footsteps, likely belonging to an assistant, and while he didn’t know why Nanami had hidden his secondary gender, he knew better than to let anyone else find out about it before he could talk to him. Without stopping to consider it, he stood and pulled Nanami’s chair away from the desk before gathering him into his arms and straightening. Nanami stirred, just a little, a soft, near inaudible purr escaping his lips, and Gojo bit back a groan, squeezing his eyes shut and searching for Shoko’s energy.
Before the assistant could come close enough to register Nanami’s scent, Gojo warped them into the infirmary. Shoko jumped, lifting her head from her computer with a sharp gasp, and Gojo shook his head before she could scold him. She paused, her wide brown eyes roaming over them as she seemed to understand the situation, and she was on her feet in the next second.
“Shit,” she said, and then she turned to Gojo with a pointed stare. “Put him on the bed.”
Gojo nodded, and Shoko released a quiet grumble as he moved to place Nanami on one of the infirmary beds. Nanami, at some point, had thrown his arms around Gojo’s neck, and now, Gojo was careful as he pried them off, ignoring every instinct in his body that told him not to let go.
Every muscle in his body unclenched when he finally set Nanami down, and he hadn’t realized he’d been so tense with the self-control it took to keep his hands to himself. Any alpha would’ve caved in that situation, with a pretty omega sitting there, vulnerable and in need of an alpha, and Gojo realized he was no different, his body thrumming with heat, stretched taut with restraint.
“Satoru—”
Gojo warped away to the nearest bathroom before he could hear whatever it was Shoko had to say. He had enough sense to click the lock on the door before his head landed against it with a dull thump and he shoved his hand inside his trousers with a sharp groan. He was hard, aching, his body reacting to the lingering smell of Nanami’s scent in his nostrils as his free hand clenched into a fist against the door.
It had been easy for Gojo to ignore his attraction to Nanami before, to pretend that his gaze never lingered over Nanami’s broad frame, his full chest that wasn’t nearly concealed by his fitted blue dress shirt, his thighs, large and muscular. His blindfold allowed him a level of discretion that made him bolder when he knew Nanami wasn’t paying attention, but for the most part, he restricted himself to looking. Nanami was a beta, after all, and Gojo knew it was uncommon for betas to mate with an alpha.
Moreover, his clan wanted him to mate with an omega, and while he had no intentions of doing that either, it would’ve been pointless to try and court Nanami when his nose was oblivious to how good of an alpha Gojo could be. And he was a good alpha, the prototypical one, tall and handsome, broad-shouldered, wealthy. He was confident that if Nanami could smell him, he wouldn’t have been immune to his scent, but he didn’t have that to bank on, and to be frank, Nanami avoided him most of the time anyway.
Gojo sighed, the puff of air dissolving into a quiet moan as he touched himself with steady, even strokes, his hips arching into his hand. Knowing Nanami was an omega was one thing, and smelling his tart, musky scent when he was in heat was an entirely different thing, and Gojo only had so much self-control. He’d used up all of it in taking Nanami to Shoko, and now, the only rational thought he had was one that told him to come quickly before any other unassuming alphas stumbled by.
He groaned, let his thumb rub over the wet tip of his head before smoothing his palm back down his cock, let his mind fill with images of Nanami he’d learned to suppress. He released a soft gasp, brushed his tongue across his lip as if he could taste Nanami’s scent if he tried hard enough. He couldn’t help the way his thoughts strayed onto paths he’d halted himself from going down before. Nanami was an omega. He was in heat, probably writhing in Shoko’s bed, hard and aching, and Gojo bet Nanami looked beautiful when he was stripped of the composure he so often wielded.
Gojo came with a sharp growl as he imagined Nanami spread out on his bed, on his couch, on his kitchen counter, wet and in need of a knot.
“Fuck,” he grit out, his throat bobbing hard as a shiver wracked its way through him and he dirtied the inside of his uniform. He shuddered with another soft swear. “Fuck.”
-
It was a few days later before Shoko finally reached out to Gojo and acknowledged the elephant in the room. He’d come back from a mission that morning and received a text from Shoko asking him to come to the infirmary. Gojo figured, at best, she intended to tell him to keep Nanami’s secret, which he’d done anyway. Truly, it wasn’t his business why Nanami had hidden his gender; all he knew was that he had, and he didn’t feel like ending up on the receiving end of Nanami’s ire if everyone suddenly knew Nanami was an omega and not a beta like he’d claimed for the past decade. Her text was cryptic, and she didn’t mention over the phone Nanami’s status, only told him to get to the infirmary when he could.
Gojo decided to head over now, a little after ten in the morning, instead of writing his mission report. He took his time as he made his way to the infirmary to mull over a few things, namely how Nanami had been able to hide it for so long, especially from him. He’d seen the scent patches and figured that had something to do with it because if anyone had smelled him before that day, let alone Gojo, he would’ve been clocked as an omega the minute he entered campus grounds. He came to a halt outside of the infirmary door, low murmurs leaking from inside.
“You’re awake!” he said the minute he entered, shoving open the door and greeting Nanami with a wide, blinding smile. He tilted his head as Shoko closed the door behind him before taking a seat on one of Shoko’s rolling chairs and sliding it towards Nanami. “I thought you may well have died.”
Nanami arched a dry eyebrow. He looked far less pale than he had a few days ago, even with his hair down and brushing over his forehead, was dressed in a dark blue sweatshirt and matching joggers that Gojo figured someone must’ve delivered for him. Ino, probably.
“People don’t usually die from pre-heats, Satoru,” Shoko said from behind him, and Gojo allowed his smile to widen, his eyes narrowing behind his blindfold.
“That’s what it was? A heat?” He’d already known that. “Since when did betas get heats?”
Nanami frowned. “Gojo, please be serious,” he said, and Gojo leaned back in the chair with a shrug. “You’re well aware by now that I’m an omega, not a beta.” His jaw clenched as Gojo arched a brow, and he looked away for a split second, his brown eyes narrowing. He wasn’t wearing his goggles anymore, and without them, it was easier to see the emotions that flashed behind his eyes, irritation, annoyance, shame. “You of all people should understand that being a sorcerer is not meant for omegas.”
Gojo hummed, finally letting his smile drop as he leveled Nanami with a long stare.
“So, you wanted to be a sorcerer so bad you lied about your gender?”
Nanami released a dry snort at that.
“Being a competent sorcerer means it’s my responsibility to make sure they don’t put young alphas on the line because they’re understaffed,” he said, his voice level and clear despite the circumstances. “If I can take on cases, then my status doesn’t matter if it means they won’t be sending the likes of Itadori on more missions than they ought to take on at their age.”
Gojo nodded because if anything, he was well aware of how archaic the higher ups' rules were about sorcery. He came from one of the big three, but even he would’ve had a hard time registering at Jujutsu Tech had he presented as an omega, let alone someone of Nanami’s social standing. No one in Nanami’s family, as far as Gojo knew, had shown an affinity for cursed energy, and thus, they had no presence or sway in the jujutsu world. Gojo could understand easily why Nanami had hidden it. Moreover, Nanami’s convictions were obvious. There was a reason Gojo had entrusted Nanami with Itadori in the first place.
“So, how does Shoko know?” he asked, and Nanami glanced at Shoko and back.
“I accessed my suppressants through her,” he said. “Yaga is aware as well.”
Gojo made a small ‘o’ in understanding, and it was Shoko who interrupted to speak.
“Nanami mentioned the two of you fought a curse the other day.” She took a seat at her desk and began typing. “He said it was weak, but its blood made a mess.”
“I wouldn’t call it much of a fight, but it was messy,” Gojo said, turning his head to look at Shoko.
Shoko grimaced. “I don’t have a full working theory,” she said, and Gojo’s brows rose on his forehead as he watched her. She looked up a second later, meeting his gaze head on. “But Nanami’s body has started rejecting the suppressants I usually give him, and I can only attribute that to the curse. It’s possible he adapted, but we’ve been upping the dose every few years to avoid that, so for now, I’m ruling that out as the reason.”
“So, what?” Gojo said, glancing between Shoko and Nanami. “You think the curse juices made your suppressants stop working? Sent you into pre-heat?”
“Something like that,” Shoko said, and Gojo nodded.
“So, what does that have to do with me?” He glanced back at Nanami. They’d kept the secret from him for years, and while he wasn’t particularly upset about it, he didn’t see why Nanami’s health updates concerned him all of a sudden.
Nanami released a long sigh, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and Shoko stood with a soft hum.
“I’ll let the two of you discuss this,” she said, and Nanami nodded, thanking her before he opened his eyes again to level Gojo with a long, serious stare.
Gojo leaned forward again, crossing his arms on the back of the chair and resting his head atop them as he waited for Nanami to explain the situation. He had a few suspicions, but he didn’t see a need to jump the gun, not when he may well have been entirely off base.
“Without my suppressants, my heat should arrive in a few days,” Nanami said, letting his shoulders droop a little as he sat back in the bed. His brows were creased into something resembling a grimace, and Gojo tilted his head to show he was listening. “Ieiri isn’t certain how strong it will be, but we both believe it best to err on the side of caution and assume that suppressing them for so long won’t make for a friendly heat.”
Gojo paused, his lips parting, and Nanami shot him a blank stare.
“I’m in need of a heat partner.”
Gojo blinked, and for a split second, he didn’t know how to respond as Nanami’s request registered. A soft, high-pitched laugh escaped his lips.
“Is this your way of asking me to fu-“
“Yes,” Nanami said, swift, and Gojo realized he was serious, that Shoko hadn’t somehow found out about the attraction he’d been harboring and decided to set him up, to force him to admit that even the strongest wasn’t immune to handsome men.
Gojo’s mouth closed, his brain coming to a full halt. Nanami needed a heat partner, and he was asking the strongest alpha he knew. It made sense from a logical perspective; Nanami was a powerful sorcerer and, more than that, a powerful man. He was strong, sturdy and dense, and Gojo knew well enough that trusting another grade one with an unpredictable heat was risky. Beyond that, there were only two other special grades, one of whom was a felon, the other a child. If anything, Gojo was the only choice, barring sending Nanami to one of the general hospitals that serviced mateless omegas like himself. Even Gojo knew that siccing Nanami on a few underprepared hospital staff would’ve been cruel.
He cleared his throat and pasted on a smile.
“Of course,” he said, easily, like he hadn’t wondered before what Nanami’s pale skin would look like covered in his marks. “Anything for my favorite junior.”
Nanami released a long sigh, and Gojo’s grin widened, a touch more genuine this time.
“Have you ever had a heat before?” he asked, mostly out of curiosity rather than a real need to know.
It wouldn’t change his answer either way; even if he hadn’t wanted to sleep with Nanami for much longer than was reasonable, he knew neither Nanami nor Shoko would’ve come to him had there been any other viable option. It was an easy decision to take on the responsibility of Nanami’s heat, especially when he’d relied on Nanami before.
Nanami frowned.
“No,” he said, and Gojo hummed, letting his fingers drum an absent minded tune against the back of his chair. “I’ve been suppressing them since I first presented,” Nanami said in explanation, and Gojo nodded.
He had no clue what to expect then. To be completely truthful, Gojo had minimal experience with omegas, let alone those in heat. Helping omegas through their heats was typically reserved for mates, and while Gojo had experienced sex with them a few times during his earlier ruts before he learned how to help himself, he’d never been expected to reciprocate when they were experiencing their heats. They had their own partners for that.
“I’ve only ever been with omegas outside of their heat,” Gojo said, deciding to be blunt in case Nanami or Shoko had any preconceived ideas about how he spent his time, and Nanami nodded.
“That’s a risk Ieiri and I are willing to take,” he said. “As of now, you’re the only person either of us trusts to be of any use.” He glanced down at his wrist, and Gojo realized someone had brought him a watch as well, his lips twitching at the thought of Nanami requesting a watch among important items to bring to the infirmary. “We’re expecting the full heat to arrive in a day or two, given that my preheat symptoms have subsided.”
Gojo pursed his lips as he watched Nanami through his blindfold. Nanami seemed more relaxed than the situation called for now that he’d requested Gojo’s help, and Gojo couldn’t help feeling as if the gravity of the situation had fallen to the wayside. He was confident in his abilities when it came to curses and most other things, but there was still a risk locking an alpha in a room with an omega in heat, let alone when neither was mated to the other. Gojo trusted himself to remain in control. If he had to, he’d do it. But Nanami’s faith in him seemed unwarranted.
Nanami’s lips thinned into a line when he said as much, and Gojo shrugged, his gaze glued to Nanami’s face for any hint of an adverse reaction.
“The two of you are willing to risk that I might take advantage of you as well?” he asked, and Nanami sighed.
“I trust that you won’t,” he said, pointed, and Gojo opened his mouth to ask why only for Nanami to cut him off with a sharp stare. “You brought me to Ieiri when you had ample opportunity to take advantage of me earlier. I’m aware you’re a lot of things, but you’ve shown that you aren’t careless with your power.” Nanami paused. “Well, you’re only moderately careless with it. In any case, you have a level of control most alphas can’t claim, and more than that, you’ll be able to restrain me well enough if necessary.”
Gojo arched his brow and chose not to mention that this had been the closest thing to praise he’d ever received from Nanami.
“Wow,” he said instead, allowing that teasing lilt to seep back into his voice. “Who would’ve guessed you’d prefer it rough.”
Nanami ignored that and sat up enough to call Shoko back in the room, and Gojo tried not to laugh. When Shoko re-entered, she and Nanami exchanged a long glance, somehow understanding each other, before she turned to Gojo with a sharp raise of her brow. Gojo shot her an easygoing smile, and rather than respond, Shoko just sighed, shaking her head to herself before taking a seat at her desk.
-
Having Gojo in his apartment was an adjustment for Nanami, namely because he hadn’t shared his space with anyone in years. Even at Jujutsu Tech, he’d been alone in his dorm, and while he had a neighbor, it wasn’t the same as living with someone. They’d all agreed, however, that it was best for Gojo to move in temporarily; they’d both taken a few days off, and Nanami had witnessed Gojo encourage Geto to take on a few missions with a cavalier smile and a wave of his hand.
“You got this!” he’d said, grinning. “Show the higher ups they can trust you again!”
Geto and Nanami had exchanged matching, dry glances, and Nanami was reminded of his high school days for a brief moment before he wiped the interaction from his mind. Now, Nanami had reluctantly shifted the location of his nest to his own bedroom and allowed Gojo to inhabit the spare room in his apartment.
It had been odd when Gojo had first moved in the day before, appearing in front of Nanami’s apartment with a black duffle bag and nothing else, donned in his uniform. He explained it away with a last-minute mission before his break, and he’d reassured Nanami that he hadn’t told the higher ups why he needed the time off, had made up some excuse that they either believed or were too scared to question him over.
When Nanami opened the door to his apartment, Gojo stepped inside and paused in the genkan. Nanami tried not to grimace. He hated that he couldn’t read Gojo’s face when he wore his blindfold. Gojo’s lips were stiff, curling at the corners into an expression Nanami couldn’t decipher, his posture tall as his shoulders went rigid.
“If it’s not to your liking, you can stay elsewhere,” Nanami found himself saying, though they both knew that wasn’t true, and Gojo nodded, cleared his throat before shooting Nanami a broad grin.
“Smells like you,” is all he said before he finally entered Nanami’s house, slipping off his shoes and into a pair of slippers Nanami had set out for him. He entered further into the house, and Nanami shut the door behind him. “Where am I staying?” He turned his head towards the couch, and Nanami shook his head and led him to the spare bedroom.
“I tried to neutralize the scent in here,” he said, having washed the sheets and even had the carpet deep cleaned before Gojo’s arrival. He didn’t know much about how the lingering scent of pheromones affected alphas, but he knew he’d used that room for much more than he’d admit aloud, and Gojo had a reputation for his sensitive nose. It only made sense, given his status. In any case, Nanami had done his best, and Gojo nodded, shooting him a smile.
“’preciate it.” He tossed his duffle bag onto the single, XL twin bed before plopping down beside it and stretching out with a long groan.
Nanami made sure to redirect his gaze elsewhere as the edges of his uniform jacket rode up his thigh, exposing the pull of black fabric around his waist. He cleared his throat a moment later. It was late enough in the day that he figured he could at least occupy himself by making dinner, and Gojo shot him a thumbs up when he said so, sitting up to look around the room. Nanami had cleared it out, so he didn’t feel self-conscious about it, but it was a foreign feeling having Gojo in his home, let alone for more than a few minutes. He sighed, running a hand through a few stray strands of his hair before he straightened and turned toward the door.
“You can settle in,” he said, and then he clicked the door shut and made his way to the kitchen.
Over the next few days, they fell into something resembling a routine, or at least a peaceful cohabitation. Gojo, for the most part, kept to himself and stayed in the guest room, coming out only for meals and then retreating there again at odd hours. Nanami had stopped by to peer inside once, curiosity getting the best of him, and Gojo had been hovering on the edge of the bed, a case file in hand. Nanami had raised an eyebrow, and when Gojo looked up, his eyes flashed before his face settled into a grin.
“Everything alright?” Gojo asked, tilting his head as he peered at Nanami over a pair of shades. Nanami kept the lighting low in his house on purpose, but he knew Gojo was still prone to overstimulation, so he never commented on the varying pieces of eyewear in the dark house. “Looking to help out with work?”
Nanami released a quiet huff.
“Not when I’m off,” he said, and Gojo merely shot him an amused smile before shrugging and turning his attention back to the files in his hand.
It was unusual, Nanami had to acknowledge to himself, to see firsthand how much Gojo overworked himself, even when he wasn’t on an active mission at the behest of the higher ups. Nanami thought he’d had an inkling of what it was like to be the strongest, but hearing about Gojo’s workload paled in comparison to stumbling in on him settled at Nanami’s kitchen counter in the early hours of the morning, before the sun even began to peek out behind the clouds.
Nanami preferred to spend the rare bout of free time leisurely, used the chance to make his way through a novel he’d neglected for going on a month now and accompanied it with a few glasses of a high-quality whiskey Shoko had gifted him for his birthday. It was much more relaxing than his usual existence, marred only by the impending arrival of his full heat, which he kept track of using a calendar by the entrance that both he and Gojo could see.
He sighed as he sank into his couch, legs crossed one over the other. The TV was on, murmurs from a movie providing a familiar sort of ambiance to fill up the apartment. Nanami, by all accounts, preferred living alone, and living with Gojo wasn’t all that different from it. Gojo had been careful, whether intentional or not, to stay out of the way of Nanami’s routine, their schedules seeming wholly opposite if Nanami thought about it too hard. He had no idea when Gojo slept or bathed, but Gojo smelled fine enough to his dulled senses—Shoko had told him to give it a bit before his smell came back—and on the rare occasion he took off his shades, he didn’t have the eyebags customary to the profession. Nanami assumed he was taking care of himself somehow.
He tried not to worry too much about his heat, namely because there wasn’t anything he could do about the situation other than wait for it to come and rely on Gojo when it did. He’d set up an imitation of his usual nest in his bedroom, scented with inoffensive pheromones that would soothe him in the event he ever needed it. He never had before, but Shoko had told him there was no such thing as being too careful, and if it came between having a nest or overestimating his ability to live life as a beta and outing himself because of it, well, the choice was easy.
The sun was starting to set, and Nanami glanced at his clock, considered whether he should start dinner or wait another hour. Gojo, for all of his elusiveness, showed up for the meals Nanami made like clockwork and ate most of the food in his house, enough that Nanami fully intended to make him contribute to groceries. Nanami had also started adding desserts to his repertoire, if only to avoid hearing Gojo complain about the lack of sugar in his apartment, and he anticipated making a sweet strawberry tart he’d seen on the internet. He enjoyed baking, at least, so it was never a hassle as long as he estimated an accurate amount of time.
The door to the guest bedroom cracked open as if Gojo had been summoned by the mere thought of food, and Nanami paused to glance at him. He looked like he’d been sleeping for once, white tufts of hair sticking up in a few different directions, his shades nowhere to be found. His blue eyes glinted even in the low lighting of Nanami’s living room as he looked around for a second like it took him time to wake up, his hand reaching up to scratch at the base of his neck before his gaze finally settled on Nanami.
Nanami felt something deep inside him stir, and he ignored it as swiftly as it arose. Gojo was good looking; that was an undeniable fact, and Nanami wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself about trivial things. He was a large man, his shoulders stretching the thin fabric of a black top, its neckline low enough to reveal the delicate curve of his collarbone. He wore a pair of shorts instead of pants, their hemline barely brushing the tops of his thighs, and Nanami found his gaze wandering lower until Gojo cleared his throat loudly.
Nanami paused, sniffed, pulled his stare back up to Gojo’s face, and Gojo’s lips were curled into a faint smirk. Instead of pointing it out, however, he only tilted his head to the side, those baby blues narrowing.
“You alright, Nanamin?” He took a step closer, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled before leveling Nanami with a bright stare. “You smell different.”
Nanami took a second to consider it before answering. He’d been feeling fine, fine enough that he was almost being lured into a false sense of security, into hoping his heat wouldn’t come and Shoko had been mistaken about the curse’s effects on him. She’d spent some time looking into their database and found more than a few curses that could trigger heats or ruts, but she wasn’t yet sure which one could impede suppressants, and part of Nanami hoped she wouldn’t find one. Felt if there was no evidence then it couldn’t be a real threat. Aside from running warmer than usual, which he had been for the past few days now, he felt no different.
“I feel fine,” he said, and Gojo nodded even as he ran his eyes across Nanami’s relaxed form like he could see something Nanami couldn’t. Granted, he likely could, in more ways than one. Not only was Gojo simply better, more perceptive than the average alpha or omega, Nanami was downright handicapped without his ability to scent. He stood after a moment, motioning to the kitchen. “I can begin dinner. Dessert may take a while.” And then. “What do I smell like?”
Perhaps it was a perfunctory question, a need to fill in the gaps of knowledge he was missing if he was going to be living as an omega, even temporarily and in the privacy of his own home. Or, more likely, it was curiosity, a need to understand just how Gojo perceived the world. It was unique, Nanami knew that much, and he had a baseline idea of how Gojo’s six eyes worked, though not much detail to go on. His heightened sense of smell wasn’t something he talked of often, namely because they all had keen noses (or they were meant to), and Nanami also imagined it had the potential to make things awkward.
But given the circumstances, there was little room for awkwardness between them, and Gojo must have agreed because he took a seat at Nanami’s kitchen counter and opened his mouth to respond, his lips flashing into a grin that bordered on predatory.
“Hard to describe, Nanamin.” Nanami turned around to begin making their dinner, something simple and easy for the night, but he could feel the way Gojo’s gaze lingered on him, assessing. Gojo took another deep inhale. “For one, you smell sweeter than usual today,” he said as he conjured up an idle tapping noise with his nails. “How about this— you tell me what you can smell, and then I’ll add onto it.”
Nanami hummed, and Gojo, apparently taking his nonresponse for uncertainty, jumped in again.
“Like when you’re really close to someone. Ieiri, for example, what do you smell?”
Nanami nodded.
“She wears an inoffensive shampoo,” he said. “Smells like laundry detergent at best, a little sterile sometimes. She smells clean though, with a touch of latex or hand sanitizer.”
“To me, she smells kind of dark,” Gojo said, and Nanami paused in the midst of chopping vegetables, the only hint he gave of his surprise. “And damp, sometimes. Like a thunderstorm is brewing. Her scent is usually really stable even when her emotions change.”
Nanami arched a brow and resumed chopping.
“That sounds unpleasant,” he said, and Gojo chuckled, the sound bright and tinkling in the vastness of Nanami’s kitchen.
“I don’t mind thunderstorms.” His fingers stopped tapping against the counter as he took in another deep breath, and Nanami didn’t know if he could imagine life through the lens of Gojo Satoru, didn’t know how he wouldn’t get overwhelmed. “You smell a lot fresher,” Gojo said. “It’s harder to put my finger on. It’s like a musk but the kind you get from hanging out near water.”
“And today?”
“And today, it’s just a little… it’s different from the rest of your house.” Gojo paused, and Nanami heard an audible swallow, but when he glanced back at him, Gojo looked as indifferent as ever, his lips still curled into that careless smile. “Just smells like a sweet musk.” He cut himself off and cleared his throat again, softer this time. “Nanamin, are you just trying to seduce me?”
Nanami snorted, the sound leaving his lips faster than he could account for, and Gojo burst into laughter at that, leaning back against the chair with a sharp jerk of his chin.
“You wound me,” he cried, and Nanami rolled his eyes as he turned and stuffed a pan full of rice, chicken, and vegetables in his oven. It was simple but healthful, gave him enough time to focus his attention on the tarts if he wanted to, but Gojo was out of his seat and invading Nanami’s personal space in the next second, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “What do I smell like, Nanamin?”
Nanami hummed, and Gojo tugged him closer, until his hair was dusting the tops of Nanami’s head. Nanami considered jesting, telling him he smelled like he needed a shower, and Gojo looked down at him with a pointed stare like he knew what he was thinking. He nudged Nanami’s face closer and bared his throat, the expanse of pale skin stretching to expose itself to Nanami’s nose, and Nanami sighed before leaning in and inhaling.
It was fair, in any case, seeing as he’d asked Gojo.
Nanami took his time as he inhaled, pressing close enough that his nose brushed Gojo’s throat, and Gojo shuddered under his touch, but he didn’t say a word about it. Nanami shut his eyes, and he had to admit to himself he enjoyed the way Gojo smelled. It was different from Shoko; Nanami couldn’t pinpoint a specific body wash or shampoo, but the scent of Gojo’s skin was a nice one, sweet like sugar or marshmallows, and Nanami wanted to ask if that was his natural skin smell or a cologne.
Instead, he pulled away and shrugged.
“You smell like dessert,” he said, and Gojo chuckled.
“Your nose really is weak,” he said as he released a soft puff of air, his voice deepening with a quiet rumble.
Nanami frowned, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what other people smelled when Gojo walked into a room. Rather, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear Gojo’s description of what they smelled, more than accustomed to Gojo’s penchant for making things as sultry as possible. He shook his head and pulled out of Gojo’s grasp, and Gojo let him, leaning back against the counter behind him as he watched Nanami begin his prep for the tarts.
-
Gojo didn’t know how those tarts had gotten done. It had been an innocent conversation for the most part, with Nanami’s questions seeming to stem from genuine curiosity as opposed to some roundabout way of hitting on him. Besides, he had a feeling Nanami was more straightforward than that when he wanted something, and it was refreshing knowing that Nanami would likely just tell him when the symptoms of his heat hit and he needed relief. But Gojo was doing a shit job at controlling himself around the omega, especially surrounded by his scent day in and day out. Nanami’s scent was downright addictive, and the scent he’d given off at dinner made Gojo want to bury his face between Nanami’s thighs and see just how deep that musk got.
It was easier to restrict himself to the guest bedroom for the most part, and as days passed, he’d been slowly getting used to being surrounded by the smell of Nanami, but the sudden shift had thrown him off again. He did a bit of research while he found himself bored out of his mind in Nanami’s guest room, and he’d learned that omegas had cycles, and their scents tended to change with it, so he knew that was likely what he was smelling. He hadn’t been able to decide if telling Nanami that his heat was probably imminent would’ve been a good idea, so he kept it to himself instead.
He sighed before pushing himself off the bed and making his way down the hall to Nanami’s bathroom. He was restless, his body thrumming with unused energy and a small trail of heat that threaded its way down his spine. It was a double-edged sword that Nanami couldn’t smell him; perhaps Nanami would’ve fucked him by now, heat or no, if he could, but he also knew there was no way his scent wasn’t giving off the painful state of intoxication he’d been thrown into since stepping foot in Nanami’s home. He didn’t know how he would explain the sharp, almost acrid note to the apparent sweetness Nanami smelled, with anything other than an admission of how much he was holding himself back from falling to his knees and begging Nanami to mate with him.
He released a quiet sigh, twirling a stray thread on his shirt between his fingers. He hadn’t even touched himself despite the desperate need for it because while Nanami’s nose was weak, he didn’t know how he’d explain away a sullied towel or moans echoing off the shower walls. For a second, he began to wonder if this whole solution had been a bad idea, but he swiftly wiped away that thought because he knew it was the only solution. He glanced at the calendar where Nanami was keeping track of his cycle, pausing at the bright red circle in the middle of the following day.
And on second thought, Gojo hadn’t heard the dull murmur of the TV in the few hours since dinner, having buried himself in more work to avoid caving and seeking out Nanami’s laundry basket. He hummed to himself. He was likely overthinking it, but he still veered away from the bathroom and into the living room where Nanami usually sat, book in hand. Nanami’s scent had taken a sharp, salty turn, that Gojo could nearly taste on his tongue, and yet, that wasn’t what gave away the heat he’d been thrown into.
“Oh, shit,” Gojo said as soon as his eyes landed on Nanami, hunched over in the chair, his head resting in his hands, his shoulders tense, his light grey tee drenched with sweat. “Shit.” Gojo waited for a second before taking a cautious step forward, and Nanami stiffened, his eyes narrowing into a glare as he looked up before softening in a flash with recognition. His cheeks were flushed, a swath of red crawling its way down his throat, his nails digging into his palms. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“It didn’t register as important until just now,” Nanami said, swift as ever, and Gojo bit back a lecture in favor of inching forward and crouching in front of Nanami.
Before he even opened his mouth, Nanami lurched, those soft brown eyes flashing, his nostrils flaring, and Gojo wondered if Nanami was finally somewhat privy to the stench he’d been carrying around the whole house. Nanami, if he was, didn’t complain about it, his shoulders slumping as he inhaled, looking as if only a touch of restraint had stopped him from burying his face against Gojo’s throat. Gojo swallowed hard. He’d read this part and had enough experience with an aroused omega to know what to do, and Nanami shuddered as Gojo leaned forward and crowded him into his arms, wrapping an arm around his waist and one under his legs before standing.
Nanami released a deep, rumbling sound, something so foreign from usual omegas that it might’ve intimidated any other alpha, and instead, Gojo found his grip tightening under Nanami’s thighs, digging red into pale skin.
“Where do you want it?” he asked, glancing down at Nanami as he nuzzled into Gojo’s throat with a deep, satisfied hum. “Your bedroom or—“ He faltered, nearly stumbling at the sudden piercing against his throat, the telltale sting of teeth digging into his scent gland. “Nanamin,” he said, breathless, biting back a groan as Nanami’s lips wrapped around the gland, his tongue flickering over it insistently. “That’s impolite.” He didn’t stop him though, and he doubted Nanami had even registered his words. “Where?” he asked again, sterner this time, and Nanami relaxed in his hold like a damn puddle.
“Guest room.” He pulled away from his assault on Gojo’s scent gland to murmur his answer, and Gojo nodded, striding to the guest room in a few quick steps.
“So, you’d rather sully my sheets?” he said, teasing if only to bring some clarity back to Nanami’s heat-addled brain, and Nanami released something quiet, a soft snort that indicated he had some awareness of what was happening.
Gojo knew from the internet that it likely wouldn’t last long, and Nanami’s grip tightened around him as he tried to set him down, refusing to let go.
“Come on,” he said, soft, coaxing. “I’m here, I’m not leaving.” He released a deep rumble from his chest, meant to soothe, and Nanami’s eyes fluttered open, leveling Gojo with a long stare before he finally released his grasp.
Gojo was careful not to move away too much, leaving Nanami’s fingers tangled in his as he fumbled open the drawer next to the bed. Nanami had said on the first day he kept condoms in there, his expression serious and not even the slightest bit flustered, and inside, they sat there just as he said they would be. He could already smell Nanami’s arousal permeating the air, the warmth near edible, and he chanced a glance down to the grey sweats Nanami dawned. Nanami was hard, his sweats tenting, and any other time, Gojo might’ve drawn it out until Nanami’s sweats darkened with the slick he could near taste at this point. Gojo hesitated over the plastic.
“What do you want?” he asked after a second as Nanami tugged on his wrist, following like his body had a will of its own to hover over such a beautiful omega. Not every omega was the same, another thing he knew from experience, and the internet had said that some omegas preferred physical contact before sex. Gojo imagined that didn’t apply to heats, but he asked anyway, and Nanami shot him a sharp, impatient stare.
“Knot me,” he said, simple and direct and rushing straight to Gojo’s dick.
“Fuck,” Gojo said, a whisper. “Fuck, that was hot.” Nanami near growled, and Gojo released a quiet, strained chuckle as he pulled back just enough to strip them, making quick work of their clothes, conceding to Nanami’s impatience. “Say it again for me?” Gojo asked as he tugged down Nanami’s sweats, and a beautiful, chubby, half-hard cock popped out, eliciting a soft, relieved sigh. He was going to go feral. Nanami would be the death of him.
“Don’t tease,” Nanami snapped, and Gojo almost laughed again, his brow arching.
“I’d never,” he said, and his instincts got the better of him as he tugged Nanami’s sweats all the way off before grabbing his thighs and tugging him closer, burying his head between his legs. Fuck, he didn’t want to think about how long he’d wanted to do that, but the scent that filled his senses made him dizzy, every ounce of blood he had rushing straight to his dick. He took in a long inhale, and Nanami’s thighs tensed beside his head, a gentle hand landing in his hair.
“You ever had sex before?” Gojo asked after a second, and Nanami scoffed.
“Of course, Gojo,” he said, and Gojo shrugged with a low murmur of, “just checking.”
He pulled back just enough to trail a series of kisses across Nanami’s thigh before letting his tongue flicker over the small scent gland nestled there, and Nanami’s leg jerked with a sharp gasp. Gojo hummed, licking it again, flattening his tongue over it as Nanami released a low groan, bordering on a growl, that made every hair on Gojo’s body stand up on end.
“Never done that before?” he asked, and Nanami’s hand clenched in his hair, his teeth gritting.
He looked gorgeous from this position, his thick cock bobbing in front of Gojo’s face, his hole leaking, the sweet smell of his slick, the blotch of red that spread across his chest and up to his ears. His teeth were clenched tight, his eyes squeezed shut, and he only opened them to answer, those beautiful brown hues cloudy with his heat.
“Only slept with betas before,” Nanami said, and Gojo tried not to show how much that piece of knowledge delighted him.
“So, I’m your first?” Said in between another wide lick across Nanami’s scent gland, and Nanami cut off his response with a sharp grunt, arching his hips and tugging on Gojo’s hair.
“Gojo, please,” Nanami said, his voice deepening with exasperation, and Gojo released a quiet groan against his thigh, pulling pale skin between his lips and sucking hard enough to make Nanami’s breath stutter, his throat bobbing. “Gojo, fuck me. Knot me.”
“You’re impatient,” Gojo found himself saying, couldn’t help pouting as he finally pulled away from Nanami’s thighs and pushed himself to hover over him again, planting a hand beside his head. “You’re lucky you’re in heat,” he said, meeting Nanami’s eyes with a pointed stare as he lifted his hips with his free hand, sliding his knees beneath them. He knew it wasn’t the most comfortable position for now, but he also knew that Nanami wouldn’t complain about it by the time they were done, dropping a finger between the crack of his ass cheeks and pressing against his rim. Nanami’s rim fluttered under his touch, and Gojo bit back a groan. “I usually like to take my time with omegas.”
Nanami didn’t bother gracing that with a reply, and Gojo couldn’t help his grin as he let his finger push inside him, breaching through the soft resistance until Nanami was opening up for him with a long, low moan.
“Fuck, you’re wet.” Nanami was damn near soaked, his slick crawling down Gojo’s finger and over his wrist as he took his time, though he really didn’t need to. Nanami was ready for him, sucking him in like it was the last time he’d ever be touched, and Gojo swiftly closed the gap between their lips before Nanami could even consider complaining.
Nanami’s breath hitched, his lips parting in an instant for Gojo, warm and inviting, and Gojo groaned as Nanami’s tongue curled around his own. Every part of Nanami was hot to the touch, his skin warm and feverish, and his mouth was so hot Gojo wanted to burn in it. Nanami could’ve pulled away to say he wanted to devour Gojo, and Gojo would’ve let him. He swallowed Nanami’s moan as he added a second finger, slipping inside as deep as they would go before pulling them back out, searching.
He knew as soon as he touched Nanami’s prostate by the way his body seized up, those gorgeous muscles contracting as he pulled away with a sharp, keening sound. Gojo used the chance to nuzzle against Nanami’s throat, sucking a sensitive scent gland into his mouth and relishing in the way Nanami released a violent, full body shudder, dribbling precum over his stomach. His slick grew thicker, and Gojo considered bringing him to orgasm just like that, on his fingers, hips arching into his touch.
He reminded himself he’d promised to help in the next second, and even to him, that hardly counted as helping. Was far too self-indulgent for that, though Gojo promised himself he’d ask if they ever did this again.
“Gojo-“
“Satoru,” Gojo said as he pulled out his fingers and shifted to press against Nanami. “Call me Satoru.”
“Satoru,” Nanami said, and he was much more compliant like this, his voice strained like he was tempted to beg. Gojo wanted that, would’ve loved to see Nanami beg, but the way Nanami’s voice petered out as soon as he pressed in was even better, his lips working around a throatless moan, his eyes blown wide as he registered the feeling.
Gojo released a long groan as he pushed himself inside, enveloped in that slick warmth, and he swore his cock pulsed inside him.
“Shit,” Nanami moaned, and Gojo could’ve fallen apart at the sound, his jaw clenching as he forced himself not to come just from Nanami’s reaction. “Satoru, please. Fuck me.” His voice was rough and raspy, deep and cracked with arousal, and it made Gojo want to draw more of those sounds from his pretty lips, his grip tightening where he’d dug his fingers into Nanami’s waist, reddening the skin there.
“I know,” he said as Nanami groaned, his hips arching against Gojo. “I know, I know. I’m gonna fuck you, alright? Okay? Your alpha, I’ve got you.” Nanami bared his neck at the word “alpha,” and it took every ounce of restraint Gojo had not to take the offer of submission, not to sink his teeth into Nanami’s pristine skin until it was dirtied with blood and the outline of his canines. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
Nanami released an abrupt, hoarse shout when Gojo pulled back and struck him deep, holding him in place as he set a steady, grinding pace. He was chasing his own release now too, chasing that feeling of his knot tugging against Nanami’s rim before he was buried too deep inside to pull out, and Nanami’s moans stuttered with every thrust. Gojo didn’t bite down, but he couldn’t help pulling Nanami’s scent gland between his lips and against his tongue, moaned at the wave of scent that was released with the tug. He sucked hard until Nanami’s gland was sufficiently red and swollen before switching to the other side, batting Nanami’s hand away as it dropped between them to stroke his short cock.
Nanami groaned when Gojo’s hand wrapped around him instead, his large palm dwarfing Nanami’s cock, and Gojo loved how wet he felt in his grasp, precum slicking every stroke as he matched the pace of his hips. His hips arched up into Gojo’s hand, and Gojo couldn’t help the way he gripped Nanami’s waist tight and forced him back down, grinding against him with a sharp moan.
Nanami felt good, intoxicating, and Gojo knew in seconds he’d never want to touch another omega again after this. He’d known that was the threat as soon as he’d stumbled upon Nanami, the man he’d been stifling a crush on for years, and now, as the thick muscles in Nanami’s chest flexed with the arch of his back, Gojo could safely say he was a doomed man. Nanami was tight, like no one ever touched him the way Gojo was, and maybe no one ever had, considering his affinity for betas. Gojo groaned, his breath puffing out hot over Nanami’s throat, and Nanami’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his fingers digging sharp into Gojo’s back, running over his shoulders, up his neck.
Gojo could feel the sting of his blunt nails digging into his skin, and it was delicious, like a trophy saying that he had been the one to fuck Nanami like this, untouchable as he was. Nanami had always seemed so far out of his reach, and if Gojo were a better man, he wouldn’t let the change in their circumstances get his hopes up. Unfortunately, he was only so virtuous.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his grip tightening around Nanami’s cock, his hips snapping forward at the little twitch in his hand. “Fuck.”
“Satoru,” Nanami warned, and Gojo didn’t know if it was chastisement or encouragement, but Nanami’s grip tightened around him, tugging him closer, so Gojo let himself believe what he wanted.
“I know,” Gojo said, and until now, he hadn’t dared to sink all the way inside. “I’ll give it to you, okay? Just tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want,” Nanami snapped, even as the muscles in his thighs flexed tight where they were wrapped around Gojo’s waist. Gojo loved having him like this, folded under him, gripping him like he needed him, those gorgeous brown eyes fluttering as he stretched to accommodate Gojo.
“I like it when you say it,” Gojo said, a halfhearted tease in an effort to ground himself, to keep himself sane, and when Nanami shuddered beneath him and said, “Knot me. Please,” Gojo broke. “That’s my omega,” he said, and Nanami’s cheeks flushed with red, his eyes squeezing shut, and Gojo didn’t like that Nanami was still so self-aware. “How should I fuck you? Like this?” He slowed his thrusts to a crawl, inching deeper and deeper but never letting himself cross that threshold that sat deep inside of Nanami. “Or did you like it faster?”
“Satoru, just-“ Nanami groaned, and Gojo swore he drew blood as he dug his nails into Gojo’s shoulders. “Come inside me. Knot me. Right now.”
Gojo laughed. “Demanding for an omega,” he managed to say, and it took all of his willpower to pull out with one abrupt motion.
Nanami whined, a high, keening sound that elicited a deep, responding growl from Gojo. It silenced the whine in seconds, but Nanami still looked disconcerted, his eyes flashing as he looked up at Gojo, and if Gojo looked closely, he almost thought Nanami might pout. He let go of Nanami’s hips to run a soothing hand across his side before offering his neck for Nanami to scent. Nanami took the offer with a low rumble, burying his nose against Gojo’s throat and nudging the scent gland that sat there.
“Just giving you what you want,” Gojo said before dropping his hand and sliding the condom off. When Nanami asked him like that, Gojo would give him anything. Nanami nuzzled against his scent gland, rubbing his cheek across it before taking it between his lips, and Gojo came to a short, stuttering halt at the feeling. His eyes fluttered shut, and he reached down to grip Nanami’s hips again. “Come for me, okay?”
As soon as the words left his lips, he slid inside of Nanami, inch by inch, sinking into that fucking heat that made him damn near delirious. Nanami released a long, guttural moan when Gojo brushed against that hole deep inside of him and then sank past it, sinking all the way into his cunt. It was so wet, tight, and every muscle in Nanami’s body locked up for a split second, his eyes flying open, his pretty lips parting with his groan.
“Fuc-“ Gojo grinned as Nanami cut himself off when he ground down against him, his back arching like he’d been struck when Gojo pulled out and pushed back in with a sharp, unyielding thrust.
“How good do I have to fuck you for you to let me mate you?” he asked, and he was rambling now, drunk on the way Nanami clenched tight around him, sucking him in like he was begging for it.
Nanami didn’t respond, and when Gojo glanced down, he nearly came just from how beautiful Nanami looked when he submitted. Gojo loved how strong Nanami was, loved his self-sufficiency, the way he wasn’t like any of the stereotypes about what an omega should be. But, more than that, Gojo thought he might be in love with the way Nanami went lax in his grip, the way his jaw went slack, that beautiful brown hazy with the way every thought seemed to leave his head. Gojo wanted to draw it, to paint it, to take a picture and conserve the memory of Nanami opening up for him like a flower. Gojo groaned.
“I’m close,” he said, and Nanami’s gaze flickered like he could just barely register Gojo’s words. Gojo hummed, nuzzling against his throat, and he let himself, just for a little bit, indulge, chasing the feeling of his knot wedged deep inside Nanami’s cunt. Nanami released a sharp grunt when Gojo grabbed his scent gland between his teeth, gentle, letting his tongue flicker over it as he sank to the hilt until his hips were pressed against the backs of Nanami’s thighs. “Come for me, okay?”
Nanami groaned, and Gojo loved the feeling of his thighs tensing, his cock jerking in his grip.
“Knot me,” Nanami said, a near whisper, his words running together. “Please, please.” Gojo hummed, nipping down on Nanami’s scent gland in warning, and Nanami’s cock jerked hard in his hand, once, twice, and then Nanami was bearing down around Gojo’s cock as he came, his voice petering out into a long, low groan.
“Shit.” Gojo let go of his scent gland to moan against his throat, at the feeling of Nanami gripping him tight, squeezing him, draining him. “Fuck, I’m- shit.”
He came.
The feeling slammed into without warning, his hips snapping forward with a harsh thrust countered only by the way he gripped Nanami tight, holding him down as he came inside. Nanami pulsed around him like he was begging for his come, and Gojo couldn’t help the soft, cracked cry he released as he gave it to him, as he filled Nanami, knotting him, swelling inside of him and eliciting a shattered swear from Nanami’s lips. Nanami would be the death of him, and Gojo wanted more than anything to let it happen. He shuddered under Nanami’s grip, his hips grinding tight circles against him until he felt himself empty. He groaned, chancing a glance down, and he swore he could see Nanami’s stomach swell with his release.
“Fuck,” he said, breathless. “I— Let me knock you up.”
“Stop talking nonsense,” Nanami snapped, and Gojo paused, a soft laugh escaping as he glanced back up to meet Nanami’s gaze. Nanami, despite having enough energy to chastise, looked blissed out, a high flush on those sharp cheekbones, his gaze still unfocused, though Gojo imagined he was intending to shoot him a mean stare.
“I don’t like that you can still talk,” Gojo murmured anyway, and Nanami released a long, heavy sigh. “Maybe if I fuck you good enough, you’ll want me to knock you up.” His eyes flashed as he shot Nanami a mischievous stare. “Can I get you to beg for my pups?”
A muscle in Nanami’s jaw flexed, a stark grunt escaping his throat when Gojo’s hips shifted, and Gojo grinned, offering a teasing grind.
“Can I make you come again like this?” he asked. “Just on my knot?”
“Satoru, please—” His jaw clenched when Gojo ground down again, and Gojo couldn’t help his grin.
“Are you asking me to do it or not?” he teased, and when Nanami shot him a glare, he took it as a sign to continue, creeping his dirtied hand back to Nanami’s cock and offering it a gentle squeeze.
“Satoru,” Nanami said, a soft groan, but his eyes fluttered shut, his legs tightening around Gojo. After a second, Nanami frowned. “Make it quick,” he said, and Gojo chuckled.
“Only because you asked so nicely.” And he knew the worst of Nanami’s first wave was probably over; he was doing it just because he wanted to, because he liked the look on Nanami’s face when he came, and he wanted to see Nanami writhing on his knot, wanted the satisfaction of seeing Nanami fall apart just from his hand and his knot. He hummed, nudging against Nanami’s jaw and inhaling deeply.
The smell of sex permeated the air, mixing with their scents, and the combination was damn near intoxicating. Gojo almost wondered if he could get hard again from this alone. He released a quiet swear as he ground down against Nanami again, and Nanami’s thigh twitched, his fingers crawling up to Gojo’s hair and tightening in those strands, damp with sweat.
“Can you smell us?” Gojo asked, and it was only somewhat out of curiosity, a need to know if Nanami knew how well their musk intertwined. Nanami grunted in response, and Gojo chuckled. “Smells good,” he said, twisting his hand just beneath Nanami’s tip, and Nanami’s stomach tightened beneath him. “Can you?” he asked again, and Nanami’s lids fluttered, but he offered something resembling a nod. Gojo grinned. “That’s my omega.”
Nanami hummed.
“You’re mine, right?” Another tight stroke and a shallow thrust of his hips that had Nanami clenching down around him, his cock twitching in his hand. He was hard again in Gojo’s grip, and Gojo didn’t need to feel the way Nanami’s thighs trembled around him to know he was close. “My omega? You liked when I said I was your alpha earlier.”
“I’m in heat,” Nanami muttered like that was an excuse, and Gojo chuckled. Next time, he would suck Nanami’s dick. See how long it took him to come like that too. Nanami went silent, and Gojo let himself trail a soft series of kisses across Nanami’s jaw, his lips curling as Nanami acquiesced, his head tilting to allow more room.
“Come for me one more time, and then we can discuss it,” Gojo said, and Nanami released a quiet snort that was cut off in seconds with a soft gasp, every muscle in his body tensing beneath Gojo. Gojo let himself grind down against Nanami, grinding past his prostate and into his cunt, letting Nanami squeeze and tighten around him, and this time, when Nanami came, he pulled tight on Gojo’s hair and let out a sharp, keening sound. Gojo couldn’t help his moan as Nanami squeezed around him like a vice, and Nanami groaned before going limp again, his expression scrunching into something unreadable beneath his blond bangs, plastered against his forehead.
Gojo let go of Nanami’s cock and brought his hand to his lips, and Nanami opened his eyes with a soft sigh as Gojo licked his hand clean of his release. Every part of Nanami tasted like dessert to Gojo, and Gojo released a quiet groan before dropping his hand and planting it next to Nanami’s head.
“I want to eat you out next,” he said, and Nanami shot him a glare.
-
Nanami had Gojo warp him to the infirmary the day after his heat ended. He regretted it when Gojo insisted on coming in, but then, he hadn’t had any other choice given his near inability to walk after four continuous days of heat and Gojo taking every opportunity he could to knot him. Nanami sighed. Admittedly, he’d begged for Gojo’s knot more than once, but as his sanity returned to him, he wished he could go back and chastise his heat-addled self for not managing to show a single ounce of restraint. It was a given that he’d want to be knotted; that much was unavoidable. It was the ways in which he’d conceded to Gojo’s whim in between the bouts of his heat that he knew he should’ve declined.
Gojo grasped his hand when he sat down on the infirmary bed, taking a seat next to him, and Nanami ignored Shoko’s glance as he let their fingers tangle together.
“How’d it go?” Shoko asked instead of pointing out Gojo’s newfound clinginess, and Nanami was glad because he didn’t know how he’d explain that he’d referred to Gojo as his alpha once, and Gojo took it and ran.
He shot Gojo a sideways glance.
“It was a mistake to think he’d be in control,” Nanami said, and Gojo paused, releasing an affronted gasp before turning to Nanami. Even through his blindfold, Nanami could feel Gojo’s eyes boring into his own as he pouted, his nose crinkling.
“I did control myself,” Gojo said, frowning. “I didn’t do anything you didn’t beg-”
“Satoru,” Nanami said, a warning, and Gojo paused. Nanami released a sigh before rolling his eyes and turning to Shoko. “It went fine,” he amended, and Gojo seemed to realize that was the only review he’d get because he turned back to Shoko and offered her a beaming grin.
Shoko nodded.
“Got it,” she said. “I couldn’t figure out why the curse was inhibiting your suppressants, so I’ll have to do more research.” She glanced at Gojo and Nanami and then back at Gojo. “I imagine you’ll be fine without them in the meantime. Going forward, you can keep track of your heats and wear scent patches during the day. They should be effective at keeping your gender hidden still while you can spend your heats with a partner.”
Nanami frowned, but he couldn’t protest that because as much as he never wanted to go through such an intense heat again, he was only human, and when Gojo was so insistent on becoming his lover, saying no seemed rather like shooting himself in the foot when indulging was easier. More pleasant, even. He sighed again. Nanami Kento couldn’t believe he was going to let himself fall for Gojo Satoru.