Tōkan was having trouble keeping track of all that was going on, focusing too much on making sure nothing vital gets damaged. He dropped the lead pipe at some point but rather than pick it up and use it against him the six kicked it away from his reach.

Too bad for them.

This defenceless omega knows how to use it much better than they would. Two of them are down before the group even realises what's happening, and with the crook of his pipe he pulls someone's knee out from under them then twists the pipe around to swing it full force on their arm while they're falling.

There's a loud crack, and they scream.

Tōkan is quick enough to break free and join his boyfriend. Back to back. "This is kinda hot," he tells Inori.

"Stop distracting me, dickhead."

But he's not so distracted as to lose the fight. They coordinate surprisingly well for people who have never done this together before, and every time Inori catches sight of Tōkan he sees the quickly-purpling bruises and the cuts and blood and this fires him up even hotter.

The group never stood a chance, really.

It doesn't take even half a minute for the two of them to be standing in the middle of a ring of moaning, battered people, panting hard and soaked through with sweat. Both of them are hurt, and Tōkan thinks he might have sprained one of his hands, but he's still too full of adrenaline to feel it.

"Let's leave."

Inori nods wordlessly and they quickly find their way to an alleyway somewhere.

At which point he lowers his mask and turns to look at Tōkan. "Fuck me. Please. Please I need to get—that disgusting—I need her voice out of my head, I need yours—"

Tōkan suspected Inori was going to ask for something like that. And besides, getting into an 8v2 fight and winning it while his boyfriend is right there glowing like a light with heat has got his rockers going at full power.

He grabs Inori by the shoulders and pushes him towards the nearest wall, then kisses him while he's doing his best to get rid of Inori's shorts with only one hand; the other is too busy pulling Inori's hair.

He's kind of offline right now, really, all his ability to can went into saving his boyfriend and kicking those guys' asses. He's sure Tōkan can figure stuff out, so all he needs to do right now is moan pitifully and grind against Tōkan, which of course makes Tōkan's job of getting rid of his clothes all the harder but Inori does not care.

Shorts are, thankfully, easy, and Tōkan himself has his trousers down in two seconds—after he grabs the pack of condoms and tears one open. He's already full mast but not knotting yet, so it's not that hard to put the condom on.

Inori whines more when Tōkan pulls away to deal with the condom, and the little disgusting voice inside him is saying no, no, don't put that on, fill me up, I want to have your cum in me...

...they're boyfriends. Maybe he can just... say that?

"Tōkan-kun, d-don't. I—I want—I want you to come in me, I want to get filled up again like, like our first time, I wanna feel all of you here—"

"—but you could get—"

"I don't care I'll take a pill later I'll take ten pills please—"

Tōkan is probably literally incapable of resisting Inori when he begs like that, now. He tosses the already-opened condom aside then pulls Inori up to hold him by the legs and finds his way to Inori's (sopping wet) entrance.

He gasps in surprise when he's so easily lifted up but fuck that's hot. He wraps his arms around Tōkan's neck and buries his face in Tōkan's shoulder so he can whine some more into his skin.

The front of Tōkan's shirt is going to get full of precum but if Tōkan didn't want that he shouldn't have picked this position.

He accepts the consequences of his actions. Right now he's just thinking Inori, my Inori, I like you, I like you so much, I need you while he tries to muster enough concentration to guide his dick into his boyfriend.

Then he gets it in and all but slams Inori down onto his hip.

Inori cries out in pain and pleasure and is honestly too far gone to do anything but cling and cry and feebly move his waist in half-hearted humps.

Tōkan can source all of the necessary humps, here; he can lead this whole parade. "Inori, Inori, Inori," he moans, again and again and again, barely sensate. "My Inori, mine mine mine, all mine, fuck—"

"Oh, oh, oh, yes, Tōkan-kun, I'm yours, all yours, oh—"

Which is the most Tōkan can get right now in terms of coherence from Inori.

Inori comes before Tōkan does, and Tōkan's shirt is absolutely, completely ruined, now, between the sweat and the blood and the dirt and the cum. But he doesn't care, he doesn't care, all he wants is his Inori, his Inori.

He comes, and comes, and comes, and it's Inori's name on his lips when he does, a long cry of it, followed by a faded, "I like you, I like you so much, Inori, my Inori," which, whoops, maybe not the most appropriate time to say that but he's not really in a condition to give a shit.

They keep going for a while still, and Tōkan comes once more while Inori comes three times, but eventually both Tōkan's knot and Inori's heat subside enough that they're left standing there, panting, Tōkan still inside Inori but slowly getting soft again. At some point they shifted positions so that Tōkan was behind Inori and Inori was facing the wall (and Inori moaned loud enough on Tōkan's way out and then back in with his knot that he's pretty sure the whole block must've heard it), but now all they're doing is holding themselves up, holding onto what little stability their shaky legs still have.

But he doesn't want to be out here, exposed to the elements, any longer, especially now that his post-heat clarity is being very clear about what they just did.

"We should go to my place."

"...I, uh, I don't think I can face your parents with my T-shirt like this."

Inori turns around, letting Tōkan's cock flop the rest of the way out of him, to look at Tōkan's shirt then at his face. "What's wrong with it? I've come home with dirty T-shirts before."