AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART I
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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || Part II -> coming soon! || masterlist ||
minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only
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âYouâve got it all wrong,â he murmurs, âbut what am I to expect from a stray like you? Youâve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you donât know what to do now that Iâve given you food and shelter.â Suguruâs fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, âa warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collarâso youâll never be lost again. No oneâs ever given you this before, hm?â
***
Suguru tries to tame you.
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⧠SPRING FEVER collab masterlist â§
cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader if you squint, biting, blood, marking, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual forced feeding in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?
a/n: this is for @lorelune 's SPRING FEVER collab!! i have been working on this for awhile now and i am excited to share it! this should be about 3 parts...i am very close to finishing the whole thing so i should be releasing a part a week for the next two weeks!
thank you for reading!! i would love to hear your thoughts <333
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âI think youâd be perfect.âÂ
Suguruâs voice is a caress, low and soft, as he sits across from you.Â
Somehow, he always makes you feel like he is just beneath the surface of your skin, even if there is a respectable distance between you. He always makes you feel as if he is lurking somewhere in the lowest parts of you, pulling at strings you once thought hidden to yourself.Â
Youâve kept your distance for this reason.
You swallow hard.Â
And then you manage to get your voice to unstick, to find it somewhere inside of you and bring it to life. Itâs firmer than youâre anticipating and youâre proud;
âI donât think I would be.âÂ
Suguru looks at you in a way that makes you feel as if heâs seeing through you, pulling you open slowly to gaze at all the inner workings of you. His dark eyes are keen, so sharp, even if theyâre shaded by half-lidded lashes.Â
He smiles pleasantly and indulges you, but you know he believes very firmly that he is, in fact, right, âwhy not?âÂ
âI told you when I agreed to join youâall I wanted in exchange for helping you, was to be an unbound Omega.â You force yourself to meet his eyes and to not get sucked into the dark tide of them.Â
âYou asked for my protection.â He reminds you.Â
Your eyes flash this time, heated, a little spark that skitters to life inside of you.
âI didnâtââÂ
âIs that not what youâd call it?â Suguru asks, âwhen I interfered, every time, to be sure no other Alpha got to you? Or when I scented you to keep them away?â
Prickling warmth dots your cheeks, can feel at the back of your neck, too, the tips of your ears. You try a different tactic.Â
âIâm not a homemaker.âÂ
His smile is soft, âI donât want a homemaker.âÂ
âIâm not obedient.â You counter again, as if you could dissuade Suguru Getou once heâs made up his mind.
âYouâve been quite good for me.â Suguru says smugly and this time, a little noise of embarrassment or frustration eeks out of you. A short, sharp little growl from your throat, almost a groan of irritation. Â
âIâIâm doing your dirty work. Thatâs our agreement! You give me assignments that I complete and in return, I get my freedom.âÂ
âI donât know why youâre so opposed to this. Is it not similar already to what we have now?â He asks simply, âIâd still let you roam, if thatâs what youâre so scared of.âÂ
âNo itâs thatâthat power and mentality that I donât want you to have over me.â You snap.Â
âI already have it,â he says and it isnât intended to be cruel, but certainly is, âhow long do you think youâd last, without the protection of an Alpha?âÂ
âI didnât have any before you.âÂ
âYou were starving, injured, and constantly on the run before me.â You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, âit would still give you what you want.âÂ
âI donât want to be yours.â You say frankly, perhaps to be cruel yourself. And then you show teeth a little, flash them in warning, âI donât want your mark.â
Suguru looks amused, if anything, by your display.Â
His smile is knowing and insufferable. It makes your anger ratchet up inside of you, hackles rising. You feel a little growl working its way out of your throat. It tears out of you in annoyance, when he says, âI donât believe you.âÂ
You slam the door so hard on its hinges that it rattles the entire wall. You wish it would rattle all the world.Â
***
Your cursed technique rips to life like a star exploding outwards.Â
Beast that you are, it overtakes you, transforms you until you are all claws and dripping, little fangs. Your body elongates, elegant, and built for speed, viciousness. The horns atop your head are sharp, too, curled the slightest into a crescent shape. The beast in you stretches and pulls at your bones, fits your skin to it in a way that you have come to know well.Â
(âCursed technique: Cursed Creature,â Suguru hums, âallows you to turn into a cursed version of yourself, a sort of,â he pauses, looking you over, âmonster?âÂ
âThatâs right.â You tell him, body trembling all over, in dire need of food. Care. Sleep.Â
He places a large hand on top of your head, strokes gently, until his hand nudges your cheek, beneath your chin so you are forced to look up into his eyes. Depthless violet.Â
âYou have a deal.â)
The sorcerer is cast backward with the force of your transformation. In this form, everything heightens, sharpening into brilliance. So much brighter, clearer. So much more overwhelming.Â
You are a flash of darkness when you move, a mass of lethality.Â
The sorcerer doesnât stand a chance, the moment you dash past him with a deep swipe of your claws, you know this will be an easy match. You chitter in this form, excited, warbly little sound erupting from you before you careen towards him again.Â
This time, he is warped away.Â
But you are fast, changing your trajectory mid-step to catch up to where he was warped.Â
Except, this time, a white haired sorcerer takes his place.Â
Your claws meet air.Â
A growling hiss erupts from your throat.Â
Satoru Gojo.Â
Suguru told you to stay away from him. At all costs.
And speak of the devil, your name is called, whistled almost. Your head turns to find Suguru appearing, too.Â
Faintly, the more human part of you wonders what the occasion is.Â
For a moment, all you can see is threat. Your hackles rise as your growling gets lower, more sinister, your form moving behind Gojo as if you might circle him, unable to let down your guard.Â
âCall off your pet,â Gojo says.Â
Suguru calls your name again and thereâs something else in his tone now, a little sharper.Â
(Fear, you wonder faintly, in some far away part of your mind. Is he worried Gojo would hurt you?)
You come to heel at Suguruâs side, remaining in this form, making a low, threatening sound still. Warning. Your claws still drip with the blood of that sorcerer.Â
âGo,â Suguru says to you.Â
Your head snaps to look at him, eyes narrowing. âIâm not leaving,â you snap and the words have a bite to it, around the curves of your fangs. You look back at Gojo. If this comes to blows, you donât want Suguru facing Gojo aloneâyou donât want to leave his back suddenly unguarded.Â
Itâs counterintuitive to you, goes against all of your instincts. You donât leave him, you donât leave his side, his back.Â
âGo,â Suguru says, harsher this time and the command seeps into you. You waver. And then, âI wonât tell you again.âÂ
When you hiss at him in that warbling way of curses, he smiles faintly, almost fondly, as your teeth drip with venom. But you do listen to him this time.
And with your heightened hearing, you hear Gojo underneath his breath as you slink away;
âHow interesting.âÂ
***
When Suguru returns to you, he is unharmed.Â
Youâd paced the length of the hallway outside of his room in the compound until you could have worn a hole into it.Â
Few would be brave enough to wait for Suguru outside his door.Â
When he arrives, he is mildly surprised to see you, before his expression melts into a sort ofâsmugness. A knowing glint to his eyes.Â
âWhy would you send me away?â You snap.
âYou couldâve gone in, you know, if it wouldâve soothed you.â Suguru says instead, head nodding towards the door to his suite. âWould you like a key?âÂ
You blanche, taking a half step back, âI donâtââ
It allows him to get to his door and open it. Youâve been here before, in the privacy of his suite, but now it feels strange. A little different. He holds the door open for you.Â
You glance at the threshold and feel as if youâre making an important decision.Â
âCome on,â he says smoothly and before you can think twice about it, you are being led inside, his hand drifting somewhere near your lower back. He never touches you, the feeling is a phantom one, the impression of it. You shiver a little.Â
But you round on him again, âwhy would you send me away?â
He doesnât acknowledge you, instead he goes rifling in a drawer, digging around a little.Â
His suite is larger than others. The living room is open and attached is the kitchen. Itâs all light wood, with tall windows that overlook the courtyard. You know, despite never being inside, that his bedroom is down the hall and to the left. The bathroom is across from it. Youâve sat many times on the floor of his living room with him, going over assignments, plans that he has, and what heâd like you to do.Â
When he finds what heâs looking for, he makes a soft noise, before turning to you with a small, gold key.Â
âI donât want a key!â You snap.Â
âItâs a spare, take it just in case.â He replies and when you donât move to grab it from him, he takes your hand in his much larger one, and opens your palm to him.Â
He places the key in your hand.Â
And then his eyes catch yours, âyou were worried.âÂ
âNo-!â you get out, âI donât like beingâIâm supposed to protect you.âÂ
Suguru smiles, hand still swallowing yours, âisnât that sweet?â he remarks, âan Omega attempting to protect an Alpha.â
Immediately, you jerk away from him.
The key is still in your shaking fist.Â
âDonât start,â you snarl, low and vicious and hurt, âIâve always been the one at your side.âÂ
âYes,â he agrees, hand falling back down to his side listlessly. âI already told you that.âÂ
Youâve always been at my side, heâd said, when he was trying to convince you toâ
âThatâs not what I meant!â Your voice rises without your consent and you feel an embarrassed, angry flush through your face for being so worked up. The room is thick with your worry and anger and frustration, all of your pent up energy like a knot in your chest, in your voice. Itâs in your heart and the way you look at him.Â
âIt doesnât matter what you meant,â Suguru says easily, âitâs still the truth.âÂ
When you slam the door this time, you hear something fall from the wall.Â
But the key is still in your trembling hand, digging indents into your palm, and your heart is still a beast in your chest.
And behind the closed door, Suguru Getou smiles fondly, and retrieves the fallen, shattered frame from the floor.Â
***
For a while, you avoid Suguru.Â
You stuff the key he gave you in your nightstand drawer, far in the back, in an attempt to keep it out of sight and out of your mind.Â
And at first, you think he is respecting your boundaries; you receive assignments through others from him. You see him only in passing and he never speaks directly to you. He hardly acknowledges you.Â
But after a week and a half, it begins to feel like punishment.Â
And the key is starting to burn and itch in your mind. You think about it at night, tossing over in your bed; you think about unlocking his door at this hour. What would you find? Would he be asleep? Awake? Alone? Fully dressed?Â
You think of him half bare and lounging, hair slipping over his shoulders, and the scent of sandalwood and fig. Tonka or something woodsy, maybe. You know it well and it lingers long after he leaves you.Â
You suddenly miss it, crave it.Â
Him.Â
You twist beneath your sheets.Â
Why did he have toâ
You make a soft noise of frustration, turning over again.Â
Youâre restless.Â
Something beneath your skin begins to itch and squirm.Â
Previously, Suguru had hardly mentioned your status as an Omega. He rarely acknowledged it; you were too brilliant of a sorcerer for him to care, you thought. You were too powerful. The only instance he brought it up was to scent you, a form of caution in a particular instance, for a particular mission. The memory still simmers in your mind, the way heâd rubbed the gland on your wrist with a careful thumb. Heâd given you clothes of his to wear. Heâd had you sit in his quarters for long hours, until it seemed as if you were his, in some way.Â
But now that heâs actually brought it up, offered you his bite, to be his, it paints him in an entirely different light.Â
Had he alwaysâŠwanted you?Â
Was he always planning this?Â
The naive, desperate parts of you want to believe this is a recent thought of his. Previous to this, he only ever saw you as another sorcerer, a powerful one that aided him. You had always been one of the closer ones to him, at his heel, his beck and call.Â
Youâd be lying if you said youâd never thought of Suguru this way; as an Alpha. An unmated one, who kept your company.Â
And he does, no matter how badly it burns to admit it, protect you.
You know he wards off Alphas.Â
You know he perhaps does more than even that.Â
But you donât wantâ
You donât want to be mated.Â
You donât want to suddenly be coddled by him, held back, donât want to be the little thing that keeps his bed warm.
Your face heats with the thought.Â
Images flash through your mind, flickering, melting together like film that bleeds and runs, of him overtop you. Shrouding you. His hair on your shoulders and back. You think of his mouth on your throat, teeth in your neck.Â
You rub at your eyes suddenly as if to clear them.
You know he leaves on a mission for a week in two days.Â
You assume, at some point, heâll speak to you. And break this strange silence.Â
Youâll both return to normal then.
And then perhaps you wonât lose any more sleep over him.
***
Suguru never says goodbye to you.Â
It shouldnât bother you as much as it doesâyou just figured heâd finally drop this silly little silence game.
You suppose he mustâve thought the same of you.
Besides, what were you expecting from him? An apology? Itâs foolish to even entertain. You knew you werenât going to apologize either. The least youâll do, when he returns, is act as if all is normal again. Perhaps itâs better that way, not to address what heâs put in his head recently.Â
The more you speak of it, or think of it, the worse it unravels in your mind.Â
On the second day that he is gone, you realize you miss his scent.Â
You realize it has become such a staple in your everyday life that its sudden disappearance is almost alarming. It makes you more irritable, more vicious. You snap at the others faster, bite out insults and brutalities.Â
Youâ
Well, you miss it.Â
Him, maybe.Â
The admittance is a hard one to swallow around. It burns going down.Â
On the third day, youâre genuinely craving his scent in a way that makes your teeth ache. You had no idea you could even miss a scent like this, need it so bad that your body would betray you with a physical pain in your chest. Somewhere in your mouth, under your tongue.Â
You try to ignore it.Â
You go on with your life.Â
But by the fifth day, you are agitated and aggressive. Everyone knows something is wrong with you. You know something is wrong with you. You can feel it beneath your skin, crawling, squirming. It makes you want to tear out your hair, rip at your nails, or sink your teeth into something. Youâre restless.
You canât sleep.Â
You can hardly eat or think.Â
And as you lay awake in your bed, kicking at sheets, sweating and twisting, you know what it is you need.Â
Youâve known the whole week.Â
You throw back the covers and wrench open your bedside drawer.Â
The key rattles, hot, like it knows itâs finally about to be used. Itâs musical sound a siren song, itâs been burning away in there the whole week.Â
You swipe it and turn sharply from your bedroom. From your own apartment.Â
Itâs the middle of the night; not a soul sees you in the compound.Â
Like a person possessed, you walk. Your back is straight. Your steps are quick. Your mind is set, on fire.
Suguruâs door has haunted you the whole week.
The key in your hand digs into the flesh, carving itâs divots there like your hand might be the lock itself.Â
You try not to think about itâyou unlock the door. You throw it open.Â
You shut it behind you, slide the lock back into place.Â
Darkness greets you.
You wander in like you know the place (you do, you doâ)
You wander in like itâs yours to wander in.Â
Instantly, something loosens inside of you.Â
You exhale hard.Â
Inhale sharp.Â
The smell of him, fainter because heâs been gone, assaults your senses, sweeps over them. You take in a lungful like gasping for air, you smell faint traces of fig and sandalwood. Notes of tonka that you long for, that urge you to move deeper into his space.Â
In the dark, you make your way down the hall, towards his bedroom.
You haunt the arch for a moment.
Guilt or regret or embarrassment almost seize you. They make you pause.Â
Some sane part of you is clawing at your insides, wailing to turn around and leave. Leave now.Â
But he gave you a key.
He gave you a key, you think in circles, again and again. He gave me a key.Â
You cross the threshold.
You sink down into his bed and his scent is strongest here, even still, after several days itâs his.Â
You turn over the covers to get beneath them, cool sheets against your legs, sliding and smooth. You turn your face into his pillow and inhale.Â
A soft little groan works itâs way out of you.
Instantly, your muscles slacken.Â
Everything leeches from you; your anger and irritation and restlessness.Â
It soothes you so deeply and so swiftly it makes your head spin.Â
You curl beneath his blankets and take deep pulls of breath, squirming a moment if only to bring his scent tighter around you. You envelope yourself in it.You shroud yourself in it.Â
And finally, after five days of restless nights, you fall asleep almost instantly.Â
Not a single dream. Not one moment where you wake or stir.Â
You sleep deeply.Â
In the morning, the sun warms you through the broad windows like a content cat.Â
You stretch lazily like one, too.
Suguru will be home tomorrow.Â
You know you need to leave his bed, hope that your scent dissipates by the time he returns.Â
You didnât do anything wrong, you knowâhe gave you a key.Â
He gave you a key.Â
But rather, you know he would never let you live it down. He would use it instantly, as ammunition for his argument, the debate that the two of you keep circling.
You donât quite leave as quickly as you should still, though:Â
You linger.
Youâre comfortable.
Calmed for the first time all week.
And when you do slip out, itâs silently, locking the door behind you.
Like maybe you wonât ever let yourself back in there, trying to shut it like it was a one time indulgence and gone now from your mind and body.Â
But his scent clings to you.Â
And little do you know, your scent clings to his sheetsâand to Suguru, itâs sweet as can be and unmistakableâirreplaceable.
He collapses in his own bed when he returns and knows youâve been all over it. He can smell the crush of dark berries, jasmine, the soothing note of vanilla that clings to you, that heâs come to adore.Â
He grins to himself and knows then, heâs got you right where he wants you.
***
For a moment, you think Suguru is going to make you be the bigger person and apologize upon his return.Â
Instead, he finds you.Â
And he doesnât say heâs sorry for his recent behavior, but he does say;
âIâd prefer if you didnât avoid me in the future.â
It feels like sorry enough.Â
And for some time, things return to a state of normal.
A version of it.
It isnât quite like it was beforeâin fact, you seem to spend more time around him than previously. He calls on you more. He brings you into his space more frequently, often urging you to eat with him, beside him, at his table.
This is ideal for you. Close but not too close.
Although, he begins to ask, donât you have your key? Canât you let yourself in?Â
You say you havenât used it.
He hums like he knows differently, but doesnât press you.
Until finally he asks you to retrieve a notebook in his study and bring it to him.
Fetch, he says.
âItâs locked, isnât it?â
âYou have your key.â He answers simply, not looking up from the book he is reading.Â
For a moment, you almost protest, but something stops you. Maybe the twitch in his brow.
Itâs a useless argument to pick, anyways.
You do have a key.
It would be fastest, easiest, to just use it.
So you do.Â
And you hand him the notebook he asked for, fingers brushing against his as he takes it from you with gentle hands.
âThank you,â he adds, voice so smooth and low, almost tempting.
You swallow a little.
Then you quickly avert your gaze.Â
âWhatever,â you grouse, but he smiles fondly, amused.
And it opens another door, more than just the one to his suite.
***
Tentatively, you begin to come and go.
The first (second)Â time you use your key to enter without his order, he is careful not to react to you any differently than how he usually does.Â
His eyes brighten a little, though, like a leopard thatâs caught something interesting in its sights and is waiting to see what itâll do.Â
Still, you grow more comfortable entering his space on your own.Â
You claim portions of it; a corner of the couch. A particular cushion around his low table. All of the sunny patches in his suite become yours, scented with you, indented with you. More than that, some horrible, hidden part of you adores that your scent is all over his space.Â
Itâs comforting to find it beside his scent.Â
It soothes a part of you that you donât wish to admit to.Â
His hands grow bolder.Â
Now theyâre always hovering at the small of your back, the nape of your neck. He tucks strands of your hair away from your face and though you jerk away from him, itâs often half-hearted. You snip at him and he only smiles.
Pleased. Smug. Knowing.Â
His hands guide you as you walk beside him.
You grow accustomed to his touch in some wayâhe makes sure of it.
Then, as if to prove somethingâ
Another cult member begins to cause trouble with you; he is another Omega. He begins with snide comments and remarks that test your patience. He doesnât stop until you are growling and bristled and ready for a fight.Â
And all it takes to stop you is Suguruâs large hand coming down on the nape of your neck.Â
His thumb rests atop one scent gland at your throat, fingertips pressing delicately into the one on the other side. Hand wrapped around the back of your neck.
âEasy,â he murmurs and just like that, you can feel some of your aggression slip from you, deflate like a balloon.
Itâs involuntary, the energy and anger unspooling from your body in an instant. In the back of your mind, youâre alarmed; how easily it was for him to effect you. Itâs terrifying.
You swat his hand away, lurching from him, another little growl in your throat.
But you donât fight him or the look in his eyes, the way he tilts his chin up in the barest hint of dominance.Â
You storm off.
Instances as such continue to happen, though, where heâs able to sooth or quell your temperament with a touch. A word. A look.Â
It comes to a head while youâre eating dinner with him.Â
âYouâre so wound up,â Suguru comments lightly, âyour scent is so sharp with it. Whatâs bothering you?âÂ
Reflexively, you snap, âyou are.âÂ
And itâs meant to be some sort of insult but Suguruâs lips twist into this hitched little smile. âItâs my fault youâre wound up?â He asks lightly.Â
âDonât twist my words.â You respond, fixing him with a glare, âyou bother me.âÂ
Heâs still deeply amused by this, you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes. The smug way he holds himself.Â
âWould you like me to help you?â He asks.Â
âNo,â you say reflexively.Â
A beat of silence before he says, âcome here. Iâll help you.âÂ
Thereâs a command in his voice, laced there, and doing something strange to your head.Â
You hesitate.
He pounces, âjust a massage.â He soothes, âI can tell your shoulders are knotted up and tense. I can see it.â
His voice has dropped into that soothing lull.
Warily, âaway from my glands?âÂ
He smiles, âof course.â And then, âcome here.â
Your body moves easily now and he murmurs, âsit in front of me. Back to meâthere, thatâs it.âÂ
It feels more vulnerable than it should to show your back to him, to sit in front of him like a child to their mother. You try to keep your posture straight and careful.Â
But then he sets large, warm hands to your shoulders. His fingers dig into the meat of them gently, pressing into your muscles which spasm and twitch in pain. You yelp, jerking away.Â
Suguru tsks, âsee how tense you are? Youâre in pain.â He scolds softly and you feel heat smart across your face, âsit still for me. Iâll be gentler.â
True to his word, he eases up, fingers careful as they run into your tense muscles.
He finds bundles of twisted up tension in your back and shoulders, pressing into them until a noise springs from youâa groan, a whimper, a little growl. He works the sounds out of you. You swear heâs doing it deliberately and you wouldnât be surprised if it was all just to humiliate you a little.Â
But you finally loosen and slacken for him.Â
When you finally sink into his hands, he murmurs, âI donât know why you fight this so badly.â
You let go of a heavy sigh, âyou do know why. Donât play dumb, it doesnât suit you.âÂ
âBecause youâre stubborn?â Suguru asks lightly and you snort, despite yourself, âbecause you donât know whatâs good for you?â
âYouâre no good for me.â You respond.
Suguruâs turn to sigh and if he digs his fingers in to make you yip in pain, heâd never say it was purposeful.Â
âYouâve got it all wrong,â he murmurs, âbut what am I to expect from a stray like you? Youâve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you donât know what to do now that Iâve given you food and shelter.â Suguruâs fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, âa warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collarâso youâll never be lost again. No oneâs ever given you this before, hm?â
Reflexively, you jerk away from his touch, you turn to look at him over your shoulder with a sneer.Â
âIâm not a pet.âÂ
Suguru does not heed your warning and instead gently pulls you back towards him by your waist.Â
âNo?â He asks lightly, fingers resuming their steady massage. You go completely still like prey, unsure, wary. Angry. Humiliated. âItâs not a bad thing to be a pet. Youâre thinking about it all wrong.âÂ
His fingers ease up towards your neck and you stiffen again.Â
âSuguru,â you say in warning as he nears your scent glands. Perhaps to what heâs said.
âYouâre my pet now,â he continues, âthough you donât like to admit it. Itâs not so bad, is it?âÂ
Stubbornly, you donât answer him.
But after a moment, you say, âif Iâm already yours, why do you need this last bit of me? If you already see me as your pet, why do you want me so terribly, in this wayââ
Suguru suddenly pulls you back deeper, into his lap, against his chest.Â
You squirm, but he holds you tight, hooks his chin over your shoulder.
Alarm bells ring frantically in your head now that heâs so close to the glands in your throat.Â
âDonât play dumb,â Suguru muses, half-mocking, âit doesnât suit you.âÂ
âLet me go,â you snarl low and hot.
âWhat are you scared of?â Suguru responds, âthat Iâd trap you? If youâd take my Bite, Iâd let you roam further than I do now. Youâd be safe.âÂ
âLiar,â you hiss, âIâm not dumb.âÂ
âIâm not trying to stifle you, Iâm trying to set you free.â Suguru almost purrs and his voice is warm and low and creeping up over your spine and trying to find its way inside you.Â
You begin to squirm this time, thrashing in his hold until you manage to wriggle free, falling forward onto your hands and knees.Â
Instinctively, you turn to keep your back protected, scrambling away from him. You bare your teeth at him.Â
âI donât believe you.âÂ
He watches this show of aggression with amusement, tilting his head slightly. And then he sighs, âI donât think anything I say will convince you at this point.âÂ
You narrow your eyes at the tone. Your hackles rise.Â
In an instant, he has grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back to him.Â
Underneath him.
You shove hard at him, twisting and fighting as he settles himself over you.Â
You realize how solid he is, how strong, and large. He doesnât budge. He doesnât even flinch.Â
âSuguru,â you hiss at him, pushing as hard as you can on his chest.
âSee how easy it was for me to subdue you?â He says then, voice smooth and low. âIf I wanted to take you, I simply wouldâve already. Youâre no challenge to me; if I wanted to trap you, I wouldâve.â
âGet off me!âÂ
You thrash hard beneath him and in an instant, he has your hands uselessly pinned above your head, stretching you out beneath him.
His nose dips, near the scent gland at your throat. You squirm.
He squeezes your wrists, âstop squirming.â He murmurs low, âor my instinct will be to bite.â
Your stomach does a horrible flip, a flutter ofâfear, excitement.Â
âJustâget offâleave me alone!â You get out, voice high and tight. You try not to arch away from the way he lets his face fall to the crook of your neck.Â
âHush,â Suguru hisses, nudging his nose beneath your ear.
Heâs scenting you.Â
Heâs done this before and despite everything in you, you finally go slack. You force yourself not to tilt your head or offer up more, rather let him urge you into the way that he prefers.Â
He nudges his cheek and nose against your jaw. He lets out a relieved breath, fitting more of his body to you and you feel the push of chest into yours, his hips.
You squirm a little and a growl erupts from his throat.
You fight back the sound that almost works its way out of you now, swallow around it.
When heâs finished, he asks, âwould you like to scent me?â And instinctively, you want to say yes, but you temper yourself. Then he adds, âIâm sending you away on a mission alone. Iâll be scenting you until the day you leave now.âÂ
You catch his eyes, glinting.
âSo, I thought it only fair if youâd like to scent me, too.âÂ
You donât know why, but something squirms inside of you, something a little hurt.Â
âYouâre sending me away?â
Suguru hums softly, âI need you to take care of something for me. I only trust you to do it.âÂ
You flex your hands a little in his hold, but he doesnât budge.Â
He nudges at your jaw again, gentle, and murmurs, âthis would be easier if youâd take my mark.âÂ
You turn your head then to shield your throat, and face him. His nose nearly brushes yours and you look up at him through your lashes. You bite your tongue from any further complaints, dipping down to the crux of his throat now.Â
Easily, perhaps eagerly, he bares his throat for you.
Satisfaction erupts beneath your skin as his scent washes over you, dark fig and oud, sandalwood and musk. Carefully, your nose runs along the column of his throat.Â
âIâm not evenââ you huff, retry, âI havenât had a Heat inâit wouldnât take, anyways.âÂ
âAh,â Suguru says and you wish you hadnât told him at all. Realization dawns over his features the way a cat might realize itâs caught its mouse beneath its paws. âIs this what youâre so scared of?âÂ
âNoâI prefer it this way. Itâs another reason that you canât. It wouldnât work.â You say stubbornly and perhaps in your irritation, you burrow further down into the crook of his neck, tuck your cheek to his skin to nudge.Â
âI could give you a temporary one,â he murmurs, âIâd let you do the same in return, of course.âÂ
You go quiet, brushing your lips against his skin, hesitating.Â
âI donât need it.â You finally decide, even as you let the blunt side of a tooth nick gently against his neck. âI can protect myself.â You pull away to look at him again, âam I not one of your strongest?âÂ
âYou are my strongest.â He agrees, he praises. âBut am I not also strong?â He asks, âand yet you still insist on protecting me.âÂ
You open your mouth to protest, but he takes your chin in hand suddenly, words dying before they can escape.Â
âYou are my strongest.â He says, âI would like the world to be aware of it.âÂ
âI told you, I donât want to be yoursââÂ
âThen stop protecting me. Flee. Run away and never return.â Suddenly, his touch, his body, all of him is gone. He rolls off of you and onto his back beside you. Cold air sweeps in. You can feel his touch like burning imprints on your skin.Â
You turn your head to the side to look at him.Â
âYou would hunt me down if I ran.âÂ
A flicker of a smile ghosts his face.Â
âAnd if I ran from you?â He asks, âif I discarded you?âÂ
Something twists so viciously and sharply in your chest that your eyes sting with it. You lock your jaw tight. You stare up at the ceiling.Â
âYou refuse to speak but your scent is spiced with distress, sour with despair.â He turns to look at you, ânot so easy to hear, is it?âÂ
âI canât stand you or your games.â You get out.Â
âThere are no games.â He says evenly, âonly the one youâre playing with yourself.âÂ
You scoff, âwhich is?âÂ
He sits up slightly, over you, looking down at you, the inky silk of his dark hair sliding over one shoulder.Â
âSeeing how long you can outrun what you want.âÂ
You exhale roughly, in exasperation, and then you ask dryly, âand what do I want, Suguru?âÂ
âTo be taken care of.âÂ
âI donât needââ
He cuts off your growl before it can start, taking your chin in hand to turn your head towards him once more. âYou never have, but it doesnât mean you canât want it.âÂ
âI donât want it either.â You snap. âYou have some grand delusion of me in your mind that I am some weak, submissive creature in need of your care.âÂ
âIâve said none of that, have I?â He hums. âNow youâre twisting my words, being purposefully churlishâin hopes of, what? To scare me off?âÂ
His palm opens up against your jaw, your cheek. His thumb touches your bottom lip.Â
âYou snap and you snarl and posture as some ferocious, independent creature to scare everyone off. I donât blame youâI am certain you protected yourself many times this way from lesser people.â His voice is soft, almost a lull, you allow his palm to open against your lips, to turn your face into the cup of his hands. âYou donât believe anyone can handle you and you hope if you bite hard enough, tear into them, theyâll run off. And then youâll feel vindicated; you were right, you are too much to handle. You were right, you are a monster. Youâre unworthy of care or companionship or protection.âÂ
His hand moves upward, baring his wrist to your mouth now, âgo on,â he encourages, âbite me. As hard as you like. Scream and cry and tear into me. Loathe me and scorn me.â He leans closer, over you, as he hushes like a mother to their child, âIâll still be here, with the rings of your teeth marks littered in my skin. Iâll be the only one, bruised and bloody, still taking care of youâno matter how badly you fight me.âÂ
Out of anger or frustration or something else entirely, tears prick your eyes. As if to hide them, you open your mouth against his wrist, gentle firstâwarm and soft lips and tongue. He looks enraptured. He looks starving.Â
You sink your teeth into his skin viciously.Â
He hisses in pain, sharp, but doesnât pull away. âThere,â he coos, leaning over you, sinking into the pain, âis that what you wanted?âÂ
Blood bursts into your mouth in a way that is almost startling, sharp and metallic. It should be gross and horrible andâyou whine a little, somewhere in the back of your throat and bear down harder.Â
If thatâs what he promises, youâll make him prove it.Â
If he wants to be the one beside you, youâll make him pay.Â
He leans down to kiss at your cheeks, gentle, humming. You realize there are tears. Your jaw aches.Â
But you donât let go and he doesnât even flinch.Â
âDoes that feel better? To get your teeth into someone who isnât scared of you?â He murmurs, nudging at your tense jaw, kissing there. âShall I do the same to you?âÂ
You release his wrist and shove him off, hard enough that he gives and he goes.Â
You stand up and storm out of his chambers, slamming the door on its hinges as hard as you can. You hope it knocks over every painting on his walls. You hope the entire compound somehow hears it. You hope it breaks something in the same way that something has been broken open inside of you.
You wipe his blood from your mouth with the back of your hand.
Suguru doesnât even bandage the wound. And he wears his sleeves high, so that all the world might see it.
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