"...a boy with a mask," confirms Tōkan, looking at the two beat-up teenagers.
Fucking selfish asshole Tōkan is going to kill him after this or he might instead fuck him NO at least he has condoms and morning after pills if he needs them clever and good advance planning but still no he looks so cute and vulnerable ARE YOU NOT LISTENING
Fuck.
After a half hour of silence Tōkan is finding himself in a very similar position to the one from when he first met Yamada: hugging his knees, tense as a spring, and trying to keep still. He's knotting and he's pretty sure his pants are soaked through with precum.
And that bastard is just sitting there playing on his phone.
"Why are you so fucking stubborn," he finally says, breaking the silence. "Just take the goddamn suppressants! I don't want to keep being tempted to—" But he will not finish this sentence, nosireeeee.
"—what?" That's an opportunity SHUT UP but he just said he's fine with it SHUT UP it would be really hot SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP—
"—that's worse!!!!"
Okay. Mind over matter. Mind over matter. He doesn't need to be around this guy, he doesn't need to get off to this guy, he doesn't need to fuck this guy. If he ever needs a fuck he has Subaru on call, plus a dozen other alphas at school and alphas and betas all over everywhere else, he doesn't need this particular guy, he doesn't need to think about—about—
—about the time Yamada jerked off to his scent, what his face must have looked like, his fingers knuckle deep in his pussy, conflicted and hating himself about it but unable to control himself—
—about how pretty he'd look with Tōkan all the way up inside him, knot and all—
—about the noises he'd make, how he'd moan and cry and gasp and plead and curse—
—about how delicious his body must look, his strong wiry build honed by so long practising fighting alphas, strong enough to overpower alphas, even three-on-one apparently, he must look so hot, his ass is probably so tight—
—about ripping that mask off his face and kissing him, finding out what he looks like under it, seeing his mouth parted for Tōkan, his lips trembling with pleasure—
—but he's startled out of his reverie by a loud growling noise coming from Inori. "...what was that."
"Holy shit that was your stomach?" But he's already reaching into his bag on instinct and grabbing a box of protein bars to toss it over to Yamada. "Eat this."
Inori looks almost startled by that, then looks down at the box and grudgingly starts eating its contents. But he turns around first so he's not facing Tōkan while he does it.
"Why do you even hate suppressants this much?" he asks. Maybe keeping his mind occupied by conversation will help him forget about everything else.
"Because I can deal with my heat with fighting spirit," he replies slowly as if talking to a child. "I've told you this."
"...is fighting spirit how you're gonna deal with this? If I lose control for one second because you can't deign to do the bare minimum I just get to have my arms broken? How's that fair?"
"Goddamnit Yamada I'm trying to protect you—!"
Fine, if Yamada is fine with getting raped then he's fine with being forced to take suppressants, right? Right. Tōkan gets to his wobbly feet and grabs an unused tolerant applier because this is ridiculous and he will not rape him and if he needs to violate Yamada's bodily autonomy otherwise to avoid that then fuck it he'll do it. He takes the steps to cross the distance between them, suppressant in hand, then grabs Yamada by the shoulder to turn him around—
...oh. He—he's so pretty—and his face is flushed like that, and he's breathing so heavily and even that is enough to get Tōkan going (not that he needs much more incentive, his trousers are actually straining against his belt and zipper and his cock might actually win that fight). "Y-you—you—"
He doesn't say anything. And doesn't resist, either. He's just there, sitting cross-legged, breathing heavily, as if he's waiting...
He's—surely he's—aware—why isn't he fighting—fight, damn you, stop Tōkan from doing this, please—
"Why are you making that face?" he says in a raspy rumble, which is not what he'd been planning to do. Nor is getting down on his knees and holding Yamada's chin in his fingers, lifting it up—he wasn't expecting Yamada to look prettier without the mask, most people don't— "You want it, don't you? As much as I do." No what stop this he did not plan to say this what the fuck is possessing him—
And still Inori doesn't say anything and just looks at him, trembling, lips parted and shining in the fluorescent light—
Fight him, damnit! Stop him! Don't—don't just look at him like that—push him away, don't let him get closer, don't let his face get there, don't let their lips touch—please—
Yes! "Th-thank you," he says between coughs, sitting on his ass and holding his arms around his midsection. What the hell was he doing, why couldn't he stop himself—