"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?"

He snorts. "An alpha talking about fair. As if I care."

"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—

Then he punches Kokonoe in the stomach and sends him away doubled over.

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—

"You're fucking welcome," he says, but he's trembling, too, and his voice is not at all steady.

"G-give me your arm. Or leg. I—" He dropped the tolerant at some point, but it's in reach and he can just grab it. "I'll inject you—"

"Hell no. Stay the fuck away from me."

"Yamada—! I just—I almost—"

"You almost nothing, I stopped you, didn't I."

"I can't stop myself, clearly, you may deal with it with fighting spirit but I don't—" He uncaps the applier but his hands are shaking too hard, he's not sure he'd even be able to apply it this way, it's too much, too fucking much...

"...then just do it. If you wanna do it." He pulls his knees in and hugs them. "I've been told that... that's what I'm for. Omegas are just there for alphas to fuck... you use your instincts as an excuse..." Shiver. "To just do what you want to do... so..."

...something happened to him. Tōkan is not sure what, the immediate idea is that some alphas took advantage of him already but that doesn't—quite—fit— "Don't lump me in with them," he says instead, dropping the applier once more. Even though he almost did it, he deserves to be lumped with them, he almost, it was, if it had been up to just him— "Stop doing that. I don't—I don't want to take advantage of you—that's why I want you to take the suppressants—do you have any idea—?"

Inori stays silent, then, and just watches Tōkan.

"I don't want that," he repeats. "Don't want to—to rape you—anyone. I can't—I know I can't complain, the whole world is set up around me, alphas are politicians and CEOs and TV personalities and singers, I'm even worse, my father is the headmaster at school, all the teachers treat me like I'm, I'm something special when I'm not, I'm just—me—except I'm not, I'm not me like this, my whole body wants to hijack me, wants me to just, just follow my instincts and evolution and I won't, I won't, I can't—" He's repeating it all mostly to convince himself, to prevent himself from doing it. Center. He needs to remember who he is, and who he is is not a rapist. "And, and sex is, it's nice, it's so nice, it's so good, it feels great, it's not, you shouldn't, you shouldn't use it to hurt people, shouldn't make them feel bad, if they're feeling bad then you're doing it wrong and I'm not, I don't want to do it wrong, I don't want to—to hurt you—" He's got the tolerant again and is trying to make his hands hold still so he can, can...

There, he thinks he's steady enough. "Your arm. Give me your arm. Please."