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In a world very different from ours, humans are born with both animal traits and human intellect, as well as a secondary gender (alpha, beta, omega) that presents itself during the last years of puberty. In this world, instincts aren’t ignored or frowned upon, but encouraged, within reason, of course. They’re particularly important when emotions run high, whether during a rut or a heat, it’s instincts that help make the process less painful and more… exciting.
Bachira, an untamable omega, is a cat hybrid who moves with a wild grace and enviable flexibility. His furred ears, mottled with scattered shades of the monarch butterfly, flinch with the smallest sounds, alert and curious, especially when it comes to certain someone’s voice. His long, sleek tail sways behind him when he walks, following the rhythm of his hips, playful, bordering on teasing. Mischievous, affectionate, and way too comfortable invading his favourite person’s personal space.
Isagi, on the other hand, is an alpha and a dog hybrid, with thick, plush ears that flatten when he’s annoyed and perk when a certain omega is near. His tail is broad and heavy with fur, curling slightly over his back and wagging more excitedly than he’d like to admit when he catches the smell of honey in his proximity. Loyal, protective, a steady presence to rely on.
In this world, there are also plenty of sayings that claim that cats and dogs don’t get along; “they fight like cats and dogs”, “they’re living a cat-and-dog life”, to name a few.
Whoever came up with those clearly didn’t know Bachira and Isagi; two ends of a magnet, opposite in nature, but inevitably drawn to each other.
This is the story of how their instincts and undeniable chemistry conspired to finally bring them together.
***
On the outskirts of town, a few hybrid packs live hidden away between dense trees and winding roads. Some houses are big, others are smaller, depending on how many members are part of the pack. Isagi and Bachira are lucky to live in the most sophisticated, modern house around, made of expensive glass and dark wood.
It’s tucked far enough from the city to keep out of sight and give them privacy, but close enough for a quick supply run when needed. Funded by Reo’s absurd wealth, the place has every luxury you could imagine; private rooms for each pack member, furnished common areas, and even a separate cabin deeper in the woods, reserved for ruts and heats.
Isagi had once compared it to the house the Cullens owned in Twilight. Bachira had laughed, agreeing completely, while Reo gave them a smug smirk and told them it was better.
Anyhow, that’s been their living arrangement for almost four years now, ever since they were twenty. Reo and Nagi, the only mated pair, share a room on the first floor. The second floor was given to the other alphas; Isagi’s room sits to the left of the staircase, Kunigami’s to the right, both spaces tidy and organized. Unlike the third floor, which is basically one big shared bedroom taken over by Chigiri and Bachira, the messiest omegas ever, according to Reo.
That morning, it isn’t Isagi’s alarm that wakes him, set half an hour earlier than the others so he can nudge Bachira awake for breakfast. Instead, it’s the slow, persistent throb in his mouth, like something is beginning to stir. At first, it’s subtle, a dull ache he could almost ignore. By the time he’s done getting ready, the sun filtering through the tall glass windows of the house, the pain has sharpened into a maddening itch.
Buried deep, crawling around in his gums and gnawing at his canines, begging him to bite, bite, bite.
Bite someone. An omega. Bachira–
“Isagi?” A sleepy Bachira asks, one eye half-open as he rubs the other.
His voice brings Isagi back to the present, realizing he’s turned his friend onto his back, one hand on his shoulder, the other braced beside him.
When did he get there? Why is he hovering over Bachira’s bed? Why’s his mouth watering at the sight of his neck?
He should move.
“You’re looking at me funny” The omega under him mumbles, blinking up at him, “Is everything okay?”
He should definitely move.
So he does, springing back like he’s touched burning iron. His voice cracks as he takes a step back to give the other hybrid space, “Yeah! Everything’s fine… Sorry, don’t know what came over me”
“It’s a miracle your pants aren’t on fire” Chigiri, a leopard hybrid, comments from the doorway, making Isagi flinch. He turns to find him leaning casually against the frame, arms crossed, wearing that shit-eating grin.
“What does that mean?” Bachira asks, still stretched across the bed. Like a cat, he pushes up onto his hands and knees, back arched lazily, tail flicking in the air as he yawns.
Isagi forgets how to think, it takes him a second too long to answer, “He’s calling me a liar”
“Ah, liar, liar, pants on fire?” His best friend giggles, rolling onto his stomach. Isagi nods, his eyes instinctively following his movements, “That’s not nice, Chigirin!”
The leopard hybrid simply shrugs, “Hurry up, you two. I’m hungry”
Once Isagi finishes helping Bachira with his morning routine, brushing his ears and tail while the latter gets dressed, he hurries downstairs to make breakfast for everyone. It’s one of his daily chores and it’s usually no trouble, but today his grip on the panhandle is too tight.
He’s wrestling with it instead of gently swirling it around to scramble the eggs, his foot tapping on the floor in a futile attempt to get rid of the sting coiling beneath his skin. His fluffy tail stays stiff with tension, flicking now and then with irritation every time someone asks if the food was ready. His ears slowly lower to his head, wincing when a chair scrapes too hard against the floor.
No matter how hard he tries, there’s no denying his discomfort.
Bachira watches from the table, chin resting on the palm of his hand, head tilted slightly to the side and his tail waving behind him, showcasing his curiosity. His eyes are sharp, focused in a way that others may find disturbing. The dog hybrid, already used to his best friend’s unsettling stare, pays no mind and sits beside him after he’s done cooking and serving breakfast.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” The omega asks again. His gentle voice drapes over the alpha like a warm blanket, soothing the restless ache in his jaw, if only for a moment.
“Yeah, don’t worry. It’s all good” He answers with a smile, his tail swishing slightly at the attention.
Reo might be too busy feeding Nagi, and Nagi might be too Reo-obsessed to notice anything else, but it doesn’t matter. They don’t need to see them to know that Bachira is working his magic on Isagi’s pre-rut symptoms, a perfect example of how a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.
Chigiri and Kunigami, however, have their fun staring at them from the other side of the table. Even if the scene before them is one they’ve seen a hundred times, it’s still oddly enjoyable, like watching reruns of their favorite soap opera. They exchange a knowing look, and Chigiri’s the first to talk.
“It’s gonna happen this time” The omega huffs, barely hiding his smile.
Kunigami, a bear hybrid, raises a brow, humming, “I don’t know… It’s the same thing every time” The flirting, the growing tension between Isagi and Bachira, nothing ever happening when their rut or heat comes.
“Wanna bet?” Chigiri taunts.
The alpha chuckles in response, “Okay, I’ll bite”
Isagi can hear every word, Bachira definitely can too, but they pretend not to. Neither of them react to their friends’ teasing, preferring to stay focused on each other, in their own little bubble of their making.
Whenever Bachira finishes his orange juice, Isagi quietly reaches for the jar to refill his glass. When Isagi pokes at his scrambled eggs, Bachira casually adds more bacon to his plate, knowing how much the alpha craves for meat during his pre-rut stage. It’s wordless, effortless, taking care of each other is as natural as breathing for them and so endearing to watch, like stars aligning into a new constellation.
Slowly, Isagi begins to settle down. The harsh ache in his jaw becomes numb, his ears relax to their usual standing position and his tail is no longer stiff, now moving more freely. The alpha even smiles, not politely nor a fake smile either, it’s genuine. Because the reason behind it was Bachira.
Unfortunately, reality soon comes knocking.
This time in the form of a fork clinking against the plate and Bachira taking a deep breath as he stretches, arms high above his head, tail curling.
“Gotta go!” He says cheerfully, “I forgot today’s berry-picking day. I better hurry or they’ll take all the good ones and Chigirin will hold it against me for months”
And just like that, Isagi’s momentary peace vanishes. His ears droop, his tail stills and the itch in his canines flares back to life, a cruel reminder that his symptoms aren’t gone. With that, his mood sours, irritation bubbling under his skin.
He knows it’s not Bachira’s fault, or anyone’s fault if we’re at it, but the omega’s absence feels sudden and overwhelming.
Rather than risk snapping at his friends or behaving in a way he would later regret, Isagi stands abruptly and announces, “I’m going out too”
For a second, the cat hybrid thinks he means going with him. Though when he turns to ask, Isagi is already halfway to the door. In his hurry, the alpha misses the way Bachira straightens slightly, how his ears perk forward and the concerned frown tugging at his eyebrows.
The pre-rut stress chases him out the door and into the woods. The morning air is cool, a fresh breeze that should help him clear his head. Apparently not today, as the pressure in his chest sticks like humidity, heavy, clogging his throat.
Since walking through the woods doesn’t help, Isagi throws himself into more chores to try to shake it off. He cleans the cabin, checks the cupboards and drawers to make sure they have enough supplies; electrolyte drinks, protein bars, body wipes, lube, extra futons.
That’s when he sees it. The calendar hanging on the wall, colour coded for every pack member, and that foreboding green cross in front of him, two days away.
Isagi sighs. He’d known the truth all along, but facing it didn’t make it any easier.
By the time he drags himself back to the house, it’s already afternoon. He hopes Kunigami cooked lunch before he left for work because he’s in no mood to make something for himself. With his limbs as heavy as rocks and his canines begging for something to sink into, he heads straight to the kitchen.
The burger waiting for him in the fridge is a godsend. It’s exactly what he needed, soft buns and a thick, juicy hamburger that will easily give under his teeth. Biteable, so biteable. Kunigami must’ve made them, understanding his craving for meat as another alpha hybrid. Isagi makes a mental note to thank him later for being so considerate.
Behind it, there’s a fruit salad, with more pineapple slices than kiwi or oranges or grapes.
The alpha takes the bowl with a small smile, he can’t wait to see Bachira again.
When he walks out of the kitchen, he finds Chigiri sitting in the dining room and silently joins him. The leopard hybrid arches a brow when Isagi doesn’t greet him and starts munching on his hamburger instead, biting into it with deliberate force, as if chewing could somehow scratch the itch in his teeth.
Like maybe he can bite through his discomfort.
And truth be told, he could. Just not with a burger.
Chigiri squints his eyes at that, judging him, “Stop that”
“My teeth are killing me” Isagi groans after swallowing, “My rut’s starting soon”
Across the table, the other hybrid makes a face, nose wrinkling as he sniffs the air. You see, a hybrid’s scent stays mostly dormant until their rut or heat approaches, pheromones are most important during that time, after all.
The moment Chigiri catches a whiff of Isagi’s alpha smell, he immediately pinches his nose, “Yuck, yeah. Totally pre-rut smell”
Isagi clicks his tongue, “I get it. I’ll eat and leave, promise”
The leopard hybrid purses his lips, maybe he was too blunt. Guilt begins to pull at him, Isagi’s his friend and he’s already having a tough time without his smart mouth, “I’m… sorry”
Isagi blinks at that, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He puts his half-eaten burger down and does his part, “Me too. My ruts are…”
A pause, a struggle to find the right words. Painful? An inconvenience? Three hellish days of thinking about claiming someone they both know but won’t name? In ways that would make the most primal of alphas faint? Yeah, no. He’s definitely not admitting that aloud.
“They’re just not easy” That will have to do, he’s thankful Chigiri doesn’t pry, “That’s no excuse for being rude, though. I’m sorry”
They both nod at each other, a silent truce passing between them. So they talk about something else. Chigiri tells him Kunigami’s out in the gardens, that Reo left for work a little after Isagi stomped out, and, of course, that Nagi went back to sleep because being awake without Reo is a pain.
There’s a name he purposefully leaves out. Sure, their truce had been about his scent and the rut creeping closer, but that didn’t mean they had agreed to ignore his thing with…
“And Bachira?” Isagi asks, a little too fast, a little too nonchalant to actually be nonchalant. Chigiri tries not to smirk, he’s so easy to read.
Before the omega could answer that Bachira had texted him he’d be a tad late for lunch because he lost track of time, a soothingly familiar voice interrupts them. Bright as the sun and just as warm.
“I’m back!”
The entire room shifts.
When he sees Bachira, his heartbreakingly pretty smiling face, the stress in his shoulders evaporates, replaced by a light embrace. Isagi’s ears jump toward the sound, standing tall, no longer hiding against his head. His tail, that had been stubbornly stiff all morning, gives an involuntary wag, once, twice, bumping against the chair. A low, barely audible sound rumbles in his throat. It’s not a growl, not really, something more like… a whine.
The change in his mood is painfully obvious, just like it was during breakfast. Where there was discomfort, there’s now ease, happiness even. The faint sour smell clinging to him, like burned green tea leaves, softens into something sweeter, gentler. Like a matcha inspired perfume.
All because of Bachira. Just the sight of him feels like a hug to the heart, like curling up under thick blankets on a freezing winter night.
All in all, Isagi’s acting like a puppy who’s seeing his owner walk through the door after a long, lonely day when it’s only been a couple of hours.
Except, he’s not a young pup anymore, he’s a fully grown hybrid.
And Bachira isn’t his owner.
Though Chigiri would argue otherwise.
Their friend watches the transformation unfold with a deadpan expression, unimpressed and entirely unfazed now that Kunigami isn’t there to gossip with him.
He’s seen it happen so many times he’s lost count. Whenever Bachira walks into a room, everything in Isagi is pulled towards him, like gravity. Whenever Isagi’s around, Bachira’s eyes are already on him, never looking anywhere else. They only have eyes for each other, it’s been that way since Chigiri met them.
“Isagi, you’re back too!” The omega is quick to jump to hug him from behind, rubbing their cheeks together, purring quietly when Isagi lets him and doesn’t complain.
“I’m here too, you know” Chigiri reminds him.
“Sorry, Chigirin!” It’s a cheerful apology, which means he doesn’t really mean it. When he sees Isagi’s burger, his smile only grows, “Kunigami’s the best! Be right back”
True to his word, he returns in less than five minutes, juggling a plate stacked with food, a bowl of fruit salad, and two glasses of pink lemonade. He sets everything down without dropping anything, a miracle, and offers one of the drinks to Isagi, who appreciates the refreshing beverage.
“Before you say anything, your glass is full” Bachira tells Chigiri, earning a roll of his eyes. The cat hybrid slides into the seat next to Isagi, scooting his chair to be even closer to him, liking the way their shoulders brush, “How are you feeling?”
Before Isagi could answer, Chigiri chimes in, mimicking that typical scene from romcoms, “Better now that you’re here”
Isagi chokes on his burger, Bachira laughs and pats his back with too much force to actually be of help. The alpha reaches blindly for his lemonade, taking a long sip to recover.
Only then does the omega lean in with a kittenish grin, golden eyes shining like marbles under the sun, “Is that true?”
Caught off guard, the dog hybrid blushes in a pretty pink and looks away, ears twitching cutely in embarrassment as he mumbles his reply, “You know it is”
Bachira beams and, without a word, his long tail gingerly curls around Isagi’s fluffy one. Its grip isn’t tight, it’s loose enough to give Isagi the opportunity to free himself if he wanted to.
He doesn’t, Bachira’s smile softens, “Want some of my clothes?”
Before, Isagi would’ve refused, like the first time the omega had tried to feed him, insisting that he could manage just fine on his own. With time, and Bachira’s patient, honey-laced coaxing, that had changed. When they were twenty, it was a single shirt; at twenty-one, a shirt and a sweatshirt with the faint aroma of pre-heat.
Now, at twenty-four, Bachira can hand over as much as he wants; hoodies, blankets, even the ones he’s sweat through during his own heat. Isagi had flushed from head to toe the first time he realised why they smelled so temptingly sweet. He didn’t comment on it though, and took them with shaky hands and a grateful nod instead.
With Chigiri watching, Isagi can do only that, nod. Trying not to be too obvious about his excitement to have Bachira’s scent with him again as he pokes at the grapes in his fruit salad.
“When are you leaving?” To the cabin, Chigiri means.
The alpha hums around the last bite of his burger, “My rut’s in two days, so… tonight, I guess” He shrugs, eyes flicking up, “I don’t want to stink up the second floor”
“You don’t stink!” Bachira protests, a little too earnestly.
Isagi gives him a small, indulgent smile, touched by his sincerity. They fall into a comfortable silence after as they finish their meals.
Then, because silence is never truly safe around Bachira, the omega pouts, ears drooping slightly at the thought of Isagi leaving. With genuine innocence, he whispers something that would’ve sounded awfully suggestive if it weren’t for his saddened expression.
“I wish there was more I could do”
Determined to win his bet against Kunigami, Chigiri takes his chance to give them a little push.
“I mean…” He takes a sip of lemonade, and continues to drop the bomb like it’s nothing, “There is more you could do”
It takes the pair a while to understand. A beat of oblivious chewing, blinking confused, processing Chigiri’s words. When it hits them, both Isagi and Bachira freeze, their heads turn to look at each other, eyes meeting in a dizzying stare. Their faces flush an identical shade of red.
For once, Bachira doesn’t laugh it off, doesn’t double down with a wink or a playful purr. He just stares at Isagi, wide-eyed, not afraid, rather cautious, hesitant. Because it’s Isagi. He doesn’t want to push too far too fast and offer something Isagi isn’t ready to accept.
The fear of ruining everything between them was paralyzing. Risking the years he’s spent subtly scheming a masterplan, one that would lead Isagi to come closer on his own terms, until he was his, isn’t something the omega can afford.
To his utmost surprise, Isagi’s scent flares. It lasts no longer than the beat of a hummingbird’s wings, gone as quickly as it came, but it’s more than enough for Bachira’s nose to catch it. After all, his senses are masterfully tuned to anything and everything relating to Isagi.
They speak at the same time.
“What do you say–” Bachira starts, voice light, playful, seeking to dismiss the sudden heated tension between them.
“You don’t have to–” Isagi blurts out, just as shocked to hear Bachira’s words.
They’re stuck dumb, startled.
Because what they said, “what do you say” and “you don’t have to”, both imply the same thing.
If you want to, I want it too.
Isagi, heart pounding against his chest with years of yearning, takes the big step neither of them had dared to face.
“You’d want to?” His voice is almost inaudible. That’s not a problem for Bachira’s keen ears that could even hear the part left unsaid.
You’d want to spend my rut together?
The omega’s tail leisurely unwraps from Isagi’s. It sneaks under the hem of Isagi’s hoodie, tracing the curve of his back over the thin fabric of his shirt, moving up, up, up to reach his nape. When it swishes against Isagi’s sensitive neck, where a mating mark could be, the alpha shivers.
Amber eyes don’t waver, they hold his azure gaze, making it impossible for the other to look away. A few seconds later, with a smile that’s wickedly cute, the cat hybrid purrs.
“Wouldn’t you…?” His tail moves again, brushing his scent gland with a feathery touch as he tilts his head to the side with a flirty smile, “Like to know, that is”
Always a tease. Isagi shakes his head in disbelief and sighs a chuckle before elbowing him playfully.
“You make me sick” Chigiri says flatly, but the amused glint in his eyes betrays him.
***
Bachira has known Isagi since they were fifteen and they’ve been best friends ever since.
Bachira has known he was an omega since he presented at seventeen.
Before that, no one really paid much attention to him. Not the good kind, anyway. Everyone whispered behind his back, how weird he was, how he had too much energy, too many thoughts, that he was too loud, too annoying. Too much.
But not for Isagi.
Isagi, who never once called him creepy, not even when he couldn’t fully understand Bachira’s thoughts or strange ideas. Who sat next to him in class when everyone else moved away, ate lunch with him despite the judging stares and thoughtfully dismissed Bachira’s worries with a firm yet soft, “you’re my best friend, Bachira”.
When Bachira presented, things changed.
Suddenly, the same alphas who used to mock him were talking to him with overly-sugary voices and fake smiles. Telling him any compliment they thought would woo him, asking if he needed help carrying his bag, offering their jackets when it wasn’t even cold. Disgustingly desperate, as if Bachira was that easy.
He didn’t like the attention. Their attention. He hated it.
He only wanted Isagi’s.
Because Isagi didn’t treat him any differently. He didn’t straighten his posture to seem taller, didn’t act pretentious or entitled just because he was an alpha and Bachira was an omega. Didn’t treat him like a fragile, brainless, porcelain doll.
He was still just… Isagi. His Isagi. Lovably kind, incredibly cute, a little awkward, with that boyish charm and those striking blue eyes that had enchanted Bachira from the moment they met.
And then, when Bachira started showing signs of pre-heat symptoms at nineteen, it was Isagi who took him to the doctor. Sat beside him in the waiting room, checked his temperature every fifteen minutes and stayed until the appointment was done, nodding along to everything that was said like the advice was meant for his own health.
Afterward, Isagi took him home, shielding the omega’s fresh pheromones with his own scent to avoid any accidents. He helped him pack for the cabin, folding clothes and blankets, and adding one of his sweatshirts without the omega having to ask for it. All while calling Reo and Chigiri to ask them to stay with him through the worst of it, trusting them to take care of Bachira because he couldn’t.
“You’re not gonna go all alpha on me?” Bachira had asked, making an effort to joke as his fever got worse.
Isagi, however, answered truthfully, “Of course not. You heard the doctor, first heats are always painful and, well… I’m an alpha. I can’t be there, but Reo and Chigiri can. That way you won’t be alone”
Unlike the other alphas, Isagi didn’t try to talk his way into staying. Didn’t act like it was owed to him just because they were alpha and omega or because they had known each other for years.
He never imposed, never reached for more than Bachira was willing to give. So considerate, so gentle, so full of respect, how could Bachira not fall for him?
Bachira has known he’s been in love with Isagi ever since.
Bachira has thought of Isagi every heat he’s had since then.
Always, only, Isagi.
He wants him badly. Needs him just as much. Which is why, for years, Bachira has been stocking little dominoes, lining them up one by one. A touch here, a flirty smile there, just enough to linger, never intense enough to scare Isagi off.
The omega has mastered the art of getting under Isagi’s skin, in the second sense of the phrase; occupying his thoughts in a compelling and persistent way, impossible to ignore.
Bachira has gotten touchier over time, more comfortable cuddling into his side, more casual in the way his tail coils around Isagi’s without asking. Wearing his clothes to give others the wrong idea, discreetly pushing away other interested omegas. Offering more of himself every rut, remember? A shirt, blankets, eventually the clothes he’d sweat through in his own heats.
So that Isagi thinks of him, only of him, during his ruts.
That’s exactly why, in the afternoon of the day before the alpha’s rut gets triggered, Bachira places another domino. He walks the trail to the cabin, humming his favorite song, with a woven basket hooked under his arm, full to the brim with honey-scented garments, rich with pheromones.
As he steps closer, he realises that the basket isn’t the only thing rich with pheromones. The cabin stands ahead, surrounded by red cedars, the air around it heavy, thick with alpha scent. Isagi’s scent.
Bachira inhales, deeply, rejoicing in the comforting blend of green tea and summer sweat. With his heart beating in the rhythm of Isagi’s name, he knocks on the door, unapologetically loud. Minutes go by without an answer, so Bachira thinks of knocking again.
The door creaks open before that happens. Isagi stands there, backlit by the dim, golden light inside the cabin and he looks… out of it? Not himself.
His pupils are blown, his irises barely a ring of ocean blue around them. His breathing is shallow, glossy lips parted slightly as he pants.
“Hi, you” Bachira speaks and the alpha’s ears twitch, standing tall, alert. His tail wags behind him, reacting to Bachira’s voice like a moth to a flame.
Those dark eyes, his unfocused gaze, drop to his neck. Bachira watches something run behind his feral eyes, a flash of hunger and need so raw it makes him shiver in excitement.
Then, recognising who’s standing before him, those wild oceans begin to calm, trembling their way back to stillness. Isagi grips the doorframe to steady himself, peeling his needy stare from Bachira’s neck and trying to keep his focus locked on those gorgeous amber eyes instead.
“Bachira… I’m sorry” Isagi’s voice is hoarse, strained, hot, “It’s just…” The alpha swallows, the omega’s body burns by seeing his throat bobbing.
It only gets worse when Isagi licks his fangs. Bachira watches, entranced, how his tongue runs along his teeth, his now sharp canines that are more than ready to bite. The cat hybrid doesn’t even flinch when Isagi’s body rocks forward, catching himself before crossing the invisible line between safety and pulling Bachira into the cabin with him.
“Isagi?” Bachira gasps, his heartbeats drumming in his ears.
Isagi shakes his head, like a puppy after a shower, trying to get a hold of his instincts, and takes a step back.
“Sorry” It’s another raspy whisper, Bachira wants nothing more than to hear it echoing in his ears, “Thank you for… uh, that” His nose twitches towards the basket, which he takes from Bachira almost desperately, “I gotta… gotta go”
And before the omega could say anything in return, Isagi turns around and disappears back into the cabin.
Bachira’s rooted to the doorway, unlike his tail that is lashing out of control, curious, giddy.
He’s never seen or heard Isagi like that before. Sure he’s seen him flustered and needy during pre-rut but never that… feral, starved. Like his inner alpha is clawing inside him, fighting to get out, being barely chained by Isagi’s absurdly strong self-control.
It’s thrilling, luring Bachira in like a siren’s lullaby. His tail curls tightly around his leg, aware of his thoughts, striving to stop him from running inside the cabin and throwing himself to Isagi. To that sweet and smoky scent of toasted green tea.
The omega doesn’t know how much longer he can hold back when all he wants to do is to fly through the free fall, knowing Isagi will be right there to catch him.
To open the door and let himself be pulled into Isagi like gravity, feel his hands around his waist, his hot mouth against his neck, his pretty canines grazing his scent gland.
To drown in Isagi’s scent.
To drown in Isagi.
To be Isagi’s.
Bachira closes his eyes and, pressing his forehead to the door, takes a deep, deep breath. Filling his lungs with Isagi’s scent until he’s sure it will cling to his memory on his way back home. Once his lungs are burning with it, he reluctantly pulls away and walks down the trail he came from.
Later that day, after dinner and before going to bed, Bachira changes into his pajamas, noticing something that makes him whine and bite on his bottom lip.
His underwear is damp with slick.
***
The next day, everyone is sort of vigilant around Bachira, who feels their not-so-discreet looks and quiet glances. His pack is evidently holding its breath, as if waiting for him to do something.
Bachira tries to pay them no mind, he has other issues to attend to. Like how he can’t stop thinking about what happened yesterday. Isagi’s blue eyes, like cold-fire, brimming with desire, his pointy fangs, his rough voice, his scent. How disheveled he looked just because Bachira was there.
You’d want to?
Is it up to Bachira then? Because if he did, then Isagi would as well?
It’s as if they’re standing at opposite ends of one bridge. Bachira on the left, Isagi on the right, both staring at each other, aiming to read what the other is thinking, slowly tracing the outlines, mapping the edges, instead of following their instincts and running into each other’s arms. Their bodies pressing close, their scents mixing, becoming one at last.
You’d want to?
That question looms in his mind the entire day. Even when night comes, and he finds himself drifting out to the balcony outside of his shared floor with Chigiri, he’s still thinking about it. Bachira crosses his arms over the wooden railing, staring into the dark blur of trees beyond, where the cabin lies.
He shuts his eyes, feels the night air on his warm skin, his ears and tail relaxing at the cool breeze.
“Hey” Chigiri’s voice, although soft, startles the cat hybrid, who was too deep in thought to notice him, “You okay?”
“No… Not really” The omega breathes out, there’s no point in lying when his distress has been evident the whole day.
“Isagi?” Chigiri asks even if he already knows the answer.
“Isagi” Bachira confirms, “It’s killing me, Chigirin. Being here, when all I want is to be with him”
There’s a pause as Chigiri joins him, leaning against the railing and gazing at the forest.
The wind faintly whistles between them as the leopard hybrid wonders, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“Then why don’t you?”
Bachira can’t blame him for asking that, not really. Chigiri is completely unaware of how much more complicated it feels when the person you want is such a complex and intricate being as Isagi Yoichi. If he ever said that outloud, Chigiri would probably have a full-on Hades from Hercules meltdown and snap, “he’s just a guy!”. Bachira has a very vivid imagination, it makes him laugh by himself sometimes.
“I don’t know” Bullshit, but Chigiri doesn’t push, granting him leniency.
“Do you want to know how I asked Kunigami?” Bachira glances over to him, his ears jumping with curiosity. The other hybrid smirks, “Hey, Kunigami, spending my heats alone is hell. Be my hero and help me out, won’t ya?”
Barking out a laugh, Bachira questions between giggles, “Really?”
“I swear” Chigiri chuckles along, “He almost choked on his protein bar. But hey, it worked” A casual shrug, a melancholic smile.
Of course it worked. The cat hybrid could see it so clearly; Chigiri swirling a lock of viva magenta around his pointer finger and Kunigami’s crimson face, stuttering a high-pitched yes.
“If only it were that easy”
“It is, though?” A raised eyebrow, his tone showing nothing but genuine confusion as to why it wouldn’t be, “I think you’re overthinking this, Bachira. Which is… weird, coming from you. That’s more Isagi’s thing”
Bachira stays quiet, letting his words sink in.
“You want him” Chigiri continues, “He wants you” It’s like teaching an elementary kid to add two plus two, “What’s the hold up?”
What is the hold-up?
No, really, what is it?
Chigiri, as usual, is right.
Isagi overthinks, Bachira doesn’t.
Isagi thinks, Bachira does.
That’s their pace, how things work between them.
Isagi wonders, Bachira leaps.
You’d want to?
Isagi had wondered, so what’s Bachira waiting for?
Without saying anything, the omega turns around to leave, bolting down the stairs and running, barefoot and careless, into the woods and towards the cabin. Thinking of eyes too blue, and teeth too sharp, and hands that hadn’t touched him but could.
That, in a few minutes, will.
So, without hesitating, without knocking, Bachira bursts through the door and hurries to slam it shut behind him, stopping Isagi’s scent from escaping. Yes, he’s greedy, he wants it all to himself, no matter how intoxicating it can be.
And it is, intoxicating. The air is thick, heavy, drenched in the bittersweet taste of insatiable arousal. Isagi’s scent crashes into Bachira like the waves he’s seen in his eyes, dense and dizzying, so full of pheromones that hang onto his skin, that seep into his lungs.
It makes Bachira’s legs feel like jelly, his knees trembling. Every breath he takes is saturated with the smell of Isagi’s rut, hot and humid, a ravenous presence that makes itself known. With no way of blocking it out, the overwhelming scent makes the room feel smaller, like the walls are closing in, trapping the omega inside with Isagi.
There’s no fear, though, the cat hybrid isn’t worried or anxious because isn’t that what he wanted? To be caged with the alpha? His tail sways lazily behind him, ears relaxed. He’s ready to pounce, excited to step into Isagi’s room, anticipation coursing through his veins like boiling water.
What he finds is better than he imagined, better than anything he could’ve dreamed of, than the aching, feverish delusions of Isagi fucking him through his heats.
It’s Isagi, red faced, hair a mess, lying on a futon littered with every piece of clothing Bachira had poured in the basket. His naked body glistens with a light sheen of sweat as he shamelessly humps a pillow bundled up in one of Bachira’s blankets, biting down on the cushion when the pleasure becomes too much yet not enough.
The omega notices that the scent glands of his thighs, wrists and neck are all covered with his clothes, as if Isagi wanted to carry Bachira’s scent on every part of him. To be covered in honey.
It’s like gravity has shifted, tilting the entire world on its axis until it centers around Isagi, mercilessly pulling Bachira towards him.
This is the final domino piece.
And Bachira is ready to tip them over.
With his chest rising with a shaky inhale, he speaks, his voice almost a moan, “Isagi”
***
After taking the basket from Bachira, and as soon as the door had clicked shut behind him, Isagi wasted no time diving into it. With his nose buried in the layers of fabric, the alpha drank the scented clothing like it was water and he was a man dying of thirst.
Sunlit syrup strong enough to eclipse the faintest trace of their cloth softener. A honey sweeter than any nestled in the combs of bees.
Bachira.
His tail thrashed back and forth as the omega’s smiling face crossed his mind. He dragged in another breath, desperate to see that picture again. The air burned going in, his nose stung, his chest was tight and yet… he breathed in deeper.
Until he was dizzy, until his lungs were so full of Bachira that it felt like he was breathing him in. Who needed oxygen when he could have Bachira. Honey was better than tasteless air, anyway.
That cloying sweetness spread through his entire being like poison-ivy, crawling into his veins, pumping through his heart, replacing blood with thick syrup. His fangs started itching again and without anyone around, he didn’t have to hold back, he could just… sink his teeth into Bachira’s possessions and pretend it was his pretty, pretty neck.
“Fuck” Groaned the alpha, clutching a hoodie that still smelled like heat-slicked skin.
Hypnotised, he stumbled back to bed, where he tossed the quilt covering the futon and swapped it with the different things in the basket. Isagi’s green tea rose to meet the honey of Bachira’s clothing, mingling in the air, stirring a delicious, erotic mix that triggered the alpha inside of him.
By the time he collapsed into the pile, Isagi was panting, flushed, his body trembling as a rush of arousal hit him like a truck. He held onto the sweatshirt, nuzzling into it as his hand twitches lower, under his waistband, wrapping his fingers around his throbbing cock.
His ears pressed down to his head, a low, helpless whine scratching its way up the alpha’s throat.
The night felt eternal. Even after coming twice, Isagi was still restless, on edge, tingling with lust and unable to sleep. His rut was taking its damn time to fully start, leaving the alpha stuck in this half-lucid state, slipping in and out of himself.
As hours ticked by, it only got worse, every nerve buzzing, every cell in his body going haywire, his dick wet with his own spent, his heart thumping violently against his ribs, every beat a plea for more.
For Bachira.
Isagi doesn’t remember when he stripped off his clothes, or when he made a DIY Bachira body pillow and started grinding on it, hard and fast, a rhythm that makes his eyes roll back. All he knows is that he needs him, fuck, he needs him.
Bachira, Bachira, Bachira.
It’s all he can think of, everything he wants.
He wants him, please, god, he wants him so much. He’d give anything, do anything, anything at all to have him. So please just–
“Isagi”
Time halts.
His world stops, narrowing to the boy standing at the edge of the futon.
His pricked ears twitch and perk up.
Slowly, eerily slowly, his head turns towards the source of that captivating voice. Stunning blue eyes rake over the omega from head to toe, piercing and unblinking, like a hunter sizing up his prey.
“Bachira?”
Asks Isagi, voice rumbly, uncertain, as if he doesn’t quite trust his own senses. He blinks a couple of times, testing his vision, trying to determine if the figure standing there is real or just another cruel mirage conjured by his overheating mind.
His ears twitch again, replaying the sound of Bachira’s voice, the way he’d moaned his name. Followed by his nose wrinkling, telling Isagi that there is a difference between the fading scent of honey clinging to the clothes around him and the fresh, ripe pheromones drifting from the cat hybrid across the room.
It’s not a dream, nor a fantasy.
The omega, who knows all too well what it’s like to hallucinate during his heats, reassures with a fond smile, “Yup, that’s me”
With that confirmation, something primal and untamed takes over Isagi’s frail rationale, who takes no longer than a second to reach for Bachira and pull him to the futon. Panting, eyes wild, every muscle taut as he pins the omega to the mattress.
The cat hybrid welcomes his feral self with a calmness worthy of praise. There’s no tension in his limbs, his eyelashes flutter low and sultry, flirty even while caged under a crazed Isagi. His back arches slightly, giving his tail the space it needs to wriggle free and slide over to one of the alpha’s arms, gently curling around his wrist.
Isagi’s ears are high and rigid, straining forward at the touch. Bachira’s, in contrast, fold down into his almond curls, a distinct gesture of submission. A sign that he’s not going to fight or push him away, that he’s willingly, eagerly, at his mercy.
“Hi” The cat hybrid says, a second attempt to ground Isagi, but the alpha doesn’t answer, he keeps staring at him, unblinking, his pupils blown wide.
“Isagi, it’s okay. I’m here for you, so please relax for me?” Unable to use his hands, still caught in Isagi’s, his tail travels up, wrapping itself around the alpha’s forearm in what the omega hopes is a pacifying embrace.
It works, his soft-spoken words, his lulling touch, a peaceful hush amidst the storms of Isagi’s rut. The boy on top draws in a long breath, slowing the drums of his beating heart, syncing it to the rise and fall of Bachira’s chest.
“That’s it, good boy” The praise does the trick. The clouds fogging up Isagi’s eyes begin to clear, blue bleeding back in, cuteness returning to them.
Isagi’s trembling fingers loosen their grip around Bachira’s wrists, keeping his voice down when he speaks, “What– what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to help!” The omega’s grin widens, baffling the alpha.
Now that his hands are free, he sits up to be closer to Isagi, who ends up kneeling between his legs, their faces just a feather’s width apart, “You know… to do more than just giving you my clothes?”
The implication behind those words makes him salivate. Isagi actually has to swallow the drool pooling in his mouth, tongue heavy with the taste of want, “You mean… fuck, I can’t– think… Bachira?”
The omega’s name comes out as a whimper, asking for clarity, confirmation that Isagi isn’t misunderstanding his intentions.
“Yeah, that’s what I meant” Bachira chuckles playfully, but Isagi still looks confused. Taking pity on him and his rut-rotten brain, he nuzzles his nose with Isagi’s, their lips almost touching, “I meant…”
His tail swishes languidly, slipping away from Isagi’s arm in favour of his leg. The soft, fluffy tip drags slowly up and down the alpha’s hard cock, a ticklish caress that makes Isagi moan.
“Let’s spend your rut together, Isagi” The omega continues, his hands reaching for Isagi’s neck, his thumb pressing on his scent gland to inhale that addictive scent that makes him wet with need, “I want you, I’ve wanted you for years. Fuck me, any way you want, as many times as you nee–mnh!”
Without a warning or a foreword, Isagi closes the distance between them, capturing Bachira’s lips in a breathless kiss. The latter kisses him back in a second, no longer holding back, ready to take everything Isagi has to offer and more.
Their tongues clash at the same time, both hybrids frantic to finally taste each other. It’s not really a fight, it’s more of an uncoordinated, clumsy dance led by the years of longing, daydreaming, craving.
Fingers dig into fabric, Isagi finds Bachira’s clothes insulting but he’ll take care of that soon. Into skin, Bachira loves the feeling of Isagi’s scent gland swelling under his touch. One hand tangles in chestnut hair, the other pushes the omega’s waist, guiding him down to the futon.
They gasp and moan between kisses, loud, just like their desperation. Sharp canines catch on pliant lips, a whimper slips out, their noses bump, but they don’t stop. They can’t stop.
Bachira’s tail hasn’t stopped moving, stroking Isagi’s dick through their heated kiss, spiking up his scent. It makes the alpha pant, their lips parting for air and yet, their foreheads stick together, eyes shut, chests heaving.
“More” Isagi gives his cheek a loud smooch, overtaken by the warmth spreading in his heart.
His lips wander lower, trailing soft, quick kisses down the curve of Bachira’s jaw, reaching the column of his neck. Once there, the alpha takes a short pause to find his scent gland. His nose brushes lightly against hot skin, nudging the spot that smells the most like honey, trying to coax it free.
The alpha breathes him in and, without thinking, presses a tentative kiss against his pulse, lips sealing over it, sucking. Hard.
A disarming, unsuspecting whine leaves Bachira’s lips. At first, the cat hybrid doesn’t think much of it, too caught up in Isagi’s scent, too drunk on his body to notice the position he’s in or what could happen if Isagi decides to bite instead of suck.
It feels good.
Too good.
So he ignores the alarms blaring in his head, silences the instincts that remind him how dangerous it is to have an alpha’s mouth on his scent gland, to let Isagi’s lips linger there, sucking like it’s his to claim.
It’s only when sharp fangs scrape against his pulse that reality bites back. Bachira flinches, snapped out of the hypnosis like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over his head, “Wait!”
His tail leaves Isagi’s cock to quickly grab him by the waist, tugging hard, trying to pull him back, “Isagi, listen to me” One hand flies to Isagi’s forehead, pushing him away from his neck.
Not-in-rut-Isagi would’ve listened. He would’ve backed off, apologized and asked if Bachira was okay. This isn’t that Isagi, though.
No. In-rut-Isagi leans into Bachira’s hand, he fights back, pushing forward, mouth hungry for his neck.
“Stop it” Bachira hisses, Isagi growls back as they start to wrestle, “Damn it, Isagi, stop fighting!” His other hand slams into the dog hybrid’s shoulder, pushing harder. Isagi pushes back.
If talking to him and shoving him won’t do, then he’ll have to resort to that. Bachira has never done it before, he’s never used his pheromones nor his omega side. So he hopes and prays they won’t fail him, that his instincts will know how to make Isagi listen.
“Isagi” His voice drops, low, commanding, laced with a rush of honey that, although sweet, is stern and strict, “Stop”
Like a switch flipping, Isagi freezes. No more struggling, no more growling. He blinks and then looks at Bachira with puppy eyes. Literal puppy eyes. Bachira wants to kiss him stupid.
“But I want to bite” He manages to say, “Hurts not to”
“You can bite” Bachira snickers when he sees Isagi’s tail wagging in excitement, “Just not there” The fluffy tail stops wagging, Bachira huffs, amused, “Not yet. I know you. You’ll feel guilty later because you want to do things the right way. Courting me first, mating when your rut and my heat sync up…”
Those words, the picture they bring, pull at Isagi’s heartstrings, helping him to sit back, away from Bachira’s neck, “Yeah… yeah, that’s right”
He blinks, remembering something he saw when he cleaned the cabin, and glances toward the top drawer of the nightstand, “Collar”
Bachira tilts his head to the side, ears fluttering, “What?”
Isagi frowns, puzzled because of the mess that is his mind. It’s like trying to find the right words in a maze of letter soup, “You have to wear one… a collar” A swish of his tail, a twitch of his ears, “You can… collar me too”
“Huh?” Bachira understands, truly, he does. But he’s still amazed that Isagi is asking to be collared.
The alpha doesn’t back down, “Yeah… yeah, collar me”
Something in Bachira twists, wild and unrestrained, like the smile he gives Isagi, “Alright, bring it”
They put the collars on each other, Isagi for Bachira, Bachira for Isagi. A rather intimate ritual that spells I belong to you, with you. It makes them chuckle, pathetically in love, incredibly happy.
When it’s done, the alpha fidgets, one of his ears droop low, eyes downcast as he shyly whispers, “There’s… this too” He opens the bottom drawer, rummages for a bit before pulling it out and offering it to Bachira, “Do you– do you want it?”
A leash.
Pretty, like Isagi. Not too long, not too short, allowing movement without ever forgetting who’s holding the other end. Perfect.
“Kinky” Bachira says instead. Isagi makes a face, between sulking and affronted, “Don’t make that face, Sillysagi. Gimme it”
The cat hybrid clips on the leash with a soft click, then gives it a light, playful tug. The effect on Isagi, however, is anything but playful. His tail thumps once against the bed, swaying low and slow, one ear bends, folding down in that irresistibly cute way that makes Bachira want to coo at him. A cherry flush rises to his cheeks.
Even if he looks ready to pounce on the omega again, he doesn’t move. He just stays there, sitting perfectly still, as if waiting for permission.
With a provocative smile, Bachira closes the space between them, “Now that that’s done” He murmurs, his fingers brushing the alpha’s delicate collarbones, “You can do whatever you want” To then rise to cup Isagi’s face and hold his gaze, staring straight into his soul and erasing any lingering doubts, “Don’t overthink it. Don’t second guess. I want you to do whatever you please, got it?”
His answer doesn’t come in words, it comes in a hungry kiss that lasts only through the frenzied pull of fabric, until Bachira’s clothes are gone and Isagi can devour his bare skin. Once his underwear is off, the kiss is over in a blink.
Before Bachira could chase after it, his world tilts as Isagi flips him over and raises his hips. The omega falls forward, stumbling on his hands and knees, his pulse hammering as he realizes what he’s supposed to do, what Isagi wants him to do.
So he curves his spine in a beautiful arch, releases a fresh wave of sugary pheromones and sways his tail seductively. Presenting, offering himself to the alpha he’s wanted for so long.
Isagi surges forward, Bachira lets out a surprised squeak when he feels a wet, warm tongue sliding between his sensitive folds. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the feeling it provoked, burning hot, all-consuming. It grows inside him when Isagi moans against his pussy, the pleasure too big for one body to hold, so all Bachira can do is spread his legs wider, fingers clenching and unclenching in the futon, trying to anchor himself.
His alpha isn’t faring any better. It’s nothing like what he’d read about or heard of; the omega’s cunt isn’t perfumed with Bachira’s pheromones, there’s no buttery honey invading his nose. It doesn’t taste like Bachira either, there’s no maple-sweetness on his tongue.
What floods his senses is the smell and taste of raw, inebriating sex. Primal and intense, like the heady need raging in their hearts.
And layered under that suffocating lust, is the soft intimacy of green tea mixing with honey.
It sets Isagi’s instincts on fire, spurs him on to dive in, pressing the flat of his tongue between Bachira’s folds. The tip accidentally brushes the omega’s clit, drawing a loud mewl from him, and Isagi, fast-learner Isagi, is quick to take advantage of that.
“Isa–ah! Isagi… so good, your tongue’s so war–mnh!…” Bachira pulls on the leash to bring him even closer.
It earns him a content moan from the boy at the end of it, who’s clearly more than happy to be buried between Bachira’s legs and go down on him. As he laps at his cunt with long, unhurried strokes, his nose nudges at his entrance and his face gets wet with a sticky mess of slick and spit.
Isagi doesn’t mind. He, in fact, likes it. Loves it. Every brush of his tongue feels like a claim; tenderly possessive, a reminder that he’s discovering places no one other than Bachira has been allowed to touch. That no one else will ever have the chance to map out.
Because Bachira is his.
He had said yes to the courting, to mating, to be with Isagi. Be Isagi’s.
And that knowledge sinks under Isagi’s skin like wildfire; blazing out of control, dangerously hot.
“Lick me more” Bachira’s moan adds fuel to the fire, feeding the burn that’s been simmering between them, “Please, please, lick me more”
With a whimper of his own, Isagi traces a path along the omega’s sensitive flesh, licking around his tingly entrance until Bachira’s legs tremble. Knowing they could close on him at any time, the alpha grips his thighs to keep them apart before pushing his tongue inside with a needy growl.
Bachira’s reaction is nothing short of erotic. A loud, broken whine echoes in the room, his back bends even more to push back, his head falling down as he fucks himself on Isagi’s tongue.
“I’m… so close…”
By hearing that, Isagi’s scent grows stronger, his tail thumping against the futon in excitement. His fingers join his mouth, rubbing the omega’s aching clit as he wiggles his tongue, up and down, in and out, devouring Bachira in any way he could. More cum slides out, tainting Isagi’s face, dripping down Bachira’s thighs, adding an alluring slosh, slosh, slosh to their moans and whimpers.
“Ah! Isagi just–… just like that” The omega’s arousal builds with every flick of Isagi’s finger, every deliberate lick, his body responding to the alpha’s every move and captivating scent.
His tail pats Isagi’s head, sometimes gliding over his ears, encouraging him to keep going. Isagi does, his mouth and fingers working faster, more urgently, as if driven by the force of Bachira’s impending release.
It doesn’t take long, Bachira comes with a silent scream, clutching at the leash and the mattress as his body shivers in pleasure. The alpha licks him through his orgasm, swiping his tongue over his thighs to clean them up.
“You…” The omega says in ragged gasps, “You made me cum so hard, good pup” His tail keeps petting Isagi’s hair, from his forehead to his nape, again and again, “Good pup…”
After sucking as much slick as he could, the alpha lifts his head to speak, “You were... s’wet and warm… and sticky” He kneels behind Bachira, whose ears perk up when he feels the head of Isagi’s cock playing with his folds, gathering cum on its way.
“Can’t wait to feel it again” His hands grope the omega’s plump ass, spreading his cheeks to get a better view of his puckering hole, “This time around my cock”
Isagi huffs an excited laugh, it sends shivers down Bachira’s spine, “I’m probably gonna cum soon, but don’t worry”
Bachira turns his head around to get a look at his alpha’s face. The blue of his eyes is swirling in blissful madness, his face glistens with the remains of his cum, his lips are crimson red. He’s so fucking pretty.
“I won’t stop until I give you my knot”
The reaction to those words is instant, inevitable, like breathing. Honey fills the air, curling around them like want and love have been made tangible. The cat hybrid’s tail gives an excited swish, betraying the delight he’s too flustered to voice.
“You want it?” Isagi asks, his voice unfairly fond as he lines himself up. Bachira glows, his cheeks turning rose-coloured, creeping all the way to his nape. It makes Isagi give him an indulgent smile, “You’re so cute, Bachira”
And before the omega could say anything, Isagi thrusts in without breaking eye contact. He watches Bachira’s reaction closely, memorizing every detail. The way his mouth falls open to let out a helpless moan, how his tail sways in fluid arcs, like waves being pulled by the tide, whimpering louder with every inch Isagi gives him. The ridiculously cute, pretty sound he makes when Isagi bottoms up.
The dog hybrid can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips, it’s not pretentious or smug, just innocently amazed, “Mnh… yeah, gonna cum”
With that warning, Isagi pulls all the way out, tightens his grasp around Bachira’s waist and slams his cock back inside. The omega cries out, falling to his forearms as Isagi fills him with heavy spurts of cum.
“Bachira… fuck, Bachira, you feel so fucking good” His voice is so soft, so sweet, nothing like the bruising grip tattooing his fingers on pliant skin, “I’m gonna move… gonna make you mine”
Isagi’s moan is a mix of relief and ecstasy as he snaps his hips forward, setting an unforgiving rhythm that seeks to satisfy his inner alpha and Bachira’s dripping pussy. Pleasure blooms fast, thick and heady, overpowering any other sensation, the same way their cloying scents fill the room, rich and strong, like perfume that’s been spilled.
The omega’s shaky forearms are no match for Isagi’s hard, deep thrusts, failing to keep Bachira on all fours. So he falls face first to the pillows, surrendering to the shockwaves of desire coursing through his body.
“Look at you” A steady hand slides down the beautiful curve of Bachira’s sweaty back, “You take me so well”
“Isagi…” His velvety voice calls out for him, only him. His cheek is smushed against the pillow, lips parted as he gasps for air, his eyes melting, glassy with want, “Don’t stop, make me cum again”
“Anything you want” The alpha breathes out and leans over him.
Without pulling out, he presses his hips forward. Hard, hard, hard against Bachira’s back, forcing him to slide onto the bed until he’s flat on his tummy, with Isagi sitting on top of his thighs.
From doggy style to flat doggy, Bachira would laugh at the irony if it weren’t for Isagi’s cock reaching even deeper, grinding against his inner walls in a way that made him whimper aloud.
“Isagi, fuck, fuck! s’too much” His words blur together in a pleased moan.
“Good much?” The alpha asks, it’s the best his brain can manage.
Thankfully, the cat hybrid understands his clumsy attempt at checking in on him and offers a giddy reassurance in return, “Mnh… so fucking good”
With that, the alpha bucks his hips, once again setting a rough pace, the weight of his body slamming against Bachira with every thrust. The boy under him could feel everything; Isagi’s hard cock throbbing inside him, his clit rubbing on the mattress whenever he pushed inside, his perky nipples brushing against the sheets, their scents heightening every sensation.
And yet, it’s not enough. There’s one thing missing.
“Isa–mnh! Isagi…” The slap, slap, slap of skin meeting skin doesn’t stop, Isagi isn’t stopping, and that’s okay, more than okay, he doesn’t want him to stop. He wants him closer, “C’mere”
Bachira yanks on the leash, harsh enough to pull Isagi down, bringing them face to face. After a heartbeat, he slots their mouths together, moaning quietly into the kiss. It’s uncomfortable, he has to crane his neck and angle himself, but it’s worth it. So worth it.
Tasting himself in Isagi’s mouth, Isagi’s weight pinning him in place, the downright filthy sounds of them fucking, it makes him clench around his dick. Isagi hisses in response, “I’m… gonna spend every rut with you… every heat together, you’re finally mine, Bachira”
Right then, the itch in his canines comes back. It’s intense, so much so that it makes his hips snap with more force. Since the collar is covering Bachira’s scent gland and protecting his nape, Isagi has no choice but to bite everywhere else.
He wants to brand him. To mark him so thoroughly there won’t be a single inch of skin that doesn’t scream Isagi’s name. He wants Bachira's scent in his lungs, his taste on his tongue, his name carved into every aching part of his body.
So his teeth sink in the omega’s back, scattering crescents across his shoulder blades, and his lips suck marks around the infuriating collar. At the same time, he aims for that spot that has Bachira drooling in pleasure and his gummy insides tightening around his cock.
“I… I feel funny” Even his own voice sounds funny to Bachira’s ears, “Like I’m gonna break but… in a good way…”
The omega sounds hypnotized, trapped in a spell of pleasure brought by Isagi’s voice, Isagi’s scent, his touch, his cock, the thought of his cum filling him up again, of his knot spreading his cunt and locking them together.
“Isagi… Isagi, something’s different–mnh! I’m–fuck, Isagi!” Bachira buries his face in the pillows, overwhelmed by the jolts of pleasure running through his veins like electricity.
Since the pillows have Isagi’s aroma, Bachira drowns in green tea, his ears sticking to his head as his pussy tightens around Isagi’s dick, sucking him in as he squirts all over the sheets with the loudest moan of the night. His body goes limp afterwards, high on the alpha’s pheromones, his face gleaming with the afterglow of the best orgasm he’s had so far.
Seeing the omega, his omega, so happy and satisfied, Isagi’s tail wags excitedly, aching to share the same pleasure. His body melts into Bachira’s as he all but lays on top of him, too tired to do anything but rock his hips and enjoy the wetness coating him as he continues to fuck him.
When he feels his knot forming, Isagi reaches for Bachira’s hand, threading their fingers together and holding on tight.
The cat hybrid’s smile blooms like a lotus flower, eyes dazzling with that smitten, utterly enamoured look he only ever gives to Isagi, “Give it to me, yeah? Knot me up”
The alpha drives in one final, brutal thrust, his body stiffening as he comes inside the omega, who sighs at the sensation. Though his features crease with a subtle wince as Isagi’s knot keeps swelling inside him.
“Just a little longer” The dog hybrid whispers in his ear, his voice low and uneven, like he’s tussling with his inner alpha, pushing his rut aside to soothe Bachira, “It’s almost over, you’re doing so well”
A moment later, Isagi lowers his lips to plant soft kisses around his back, tending to the different marks he left. A quiet distraction, a silent apology for being too rough, “It’s okay, it’s done. I’m sorry, I lost myself and I–”
“Time out!” Bachira calls out between giggles, “Don’t underestimate me, Worrysagi. I can take you and your rut anytime!” By seeing the alpha scrunching his nose, Bachira squeezes his hand, “Hey, I mean it. I loved it, every second of it”
Isagi smiles at him, glowing and affectionate, and nuzzles his head, scenting him. Bachira’s heart skips a beat when the alpha speaks again, “I’m going to move us onto our sides, is that okay?”
“Yeah…” The omega blinks lazily, “That sounds nice, actually”
Carefully, gently, Isagi shifts them. There’s no rush, they take their time to even their breathing and relax in each other’s arms.
Then, as if remembering something, Bachira purrs, “Gimme your face?” Isagi nods and they adjust their bodies to allow Bachira to lick him, his rough tongue running across his lips and cheeks, “There, all clean”
The other boy chuckles and plops back to the futon, still hugging Bachira close. The omega can’t help but think it’s adorable how cuddly he’s being.
A kiss is pressed to his nape, over the collar, Isagi’s lips ghost over his skin as he speaks, “Thank you for stopping me” From biting him, he means, “You were right. I do want to do things the right way”
“I know” And yet, he still teases him, because that’s how he is and one of the many things Isagi likes about him, “You’re supposed to court me before knotting me though”
And after all these years together, the alpha has learned how to tease back, “In my defence, you told me to do that”
“Smartass” Bachira snorts a laugh.
There’s a brief pause, it’s not awkward, it’s peaceful, full of everything they haven’t said until now. They take in everything that’s happened, wondering why they took so long to get there but grateful that they did.
“So…” Isagi swallows, nerves and shyness catching up with him now that the peak of his rut is over, “Umn… Can I court you?”
Bachira tilts his head to meet those beautiful blue eyes, lips curving in a kittenish grin, “Imagine if I said no”
“Bachira” The alpha lets out an incredulous huff of fond disbelief.
One that makes Bachira laugh, bright and boyish, “I’m just kidding, geez! Of course you can” His tail snuggles around Isagi’s, a habit that won’t ever die, “Oh, and we’re spending my heat together. I’m not going through that alone ever again”
Isagi gulps.
Bachira will probably fuck him dry.