Saihara was used to Ouma doing worrying things.

Like when the two of them had visited a convenience store after class and Ouma had tried to put his face under the slushie dispenser… or when Ouma had shotgunned three energy drinks in sequence during a lecture.

But this was… different.

The two boys had a handful of classes together, and Ouma had been noticeably absent. Their criminology class just wasn't the same without the petite student raising his hand to torment the professor with unanswerable questions.

As a couple of missed classes turned to days without contact from Ouma, Saihara had begun to feel that familiar uneasiness take root in his gut. His thoughts turned to images of his friend terrified or hurt or kidnapped. He'd be lying if he said he didn't care deeply and strongly about Ouma; he filled Saihara’s mind more often than he'd care to admit.

“I'm just… really worried about him.” Saihara had raised the topic at one of the lunches he usually shared with Ouma and the rest of their friend group. But now, Ouma’s chair was conspicuously absent, and Saihara felt that void acutely. Their meals felt eerily empty without his banter, his signature “nishishi” laugh as he played a prank or told a story.

“Y’know, he's a total mystery… I wouldn't read too much into his disappearance.” Amami bit into his black bean burger, ever the calorie-conscious one. He chewed, lost in thought, before speaking. “When we were in high school together, he disappeared for a week. No texts, no calls, nothing.”

“A week?! Goodness, was he okay?” Kiibo exclaimed, blue eyes wide in surprise. The robot had been a newer addition to their friend group, literally dragged to lunch with them by Ouma. His rationale for basically manhandling another student to join their group had been “look, a robot!”.

“Nah, they thought he had become a hikkikomori but some girl went to go check on him and he was holed up playing Dark Souls. He was fine, just… really into the game. I guess my point is he's probably okay.”

“He eats poorly and annoys a lot of people,” Saihara said quietly, fidgeting with his fork. “He could be sick, or hurt…”

“If someone tried to kidnap him he'd probably make them regret it. Plus, how many other college students do you know that have garbage eating habits? Are any of them dead?” Amami flicked his bangs out of his eyes, before lowering his voice. “Plus, you and I both know he’s a beta, so he's not… yknow.”

Kiibo emitted a squeak and turned pink, and Saihara followed suit.

Saihara was the only alpha in their friend group, a fact he was deeply self-conscious of. It didn’t help that Amami was a beta despite his showy appearance, Ouma was a self-proclaimed beta, and Kiibo was a robot. As a skinny, feminine wallflower, he knew he didn't fit most people’s ideal of the big, aggressive alpha. It didn't help that he had been a late bloomer, only figuring out his designation out of high school.

“Tell you what, if you’re so worried, I’ll let you do some detective work. I’ll give you my key to his apartment. He gave me a spare so I could hang out.” Amami hummed as he pulled out a small room key- white with pink flowers and “Amami-chan” written in loopy script. “He decorated it for me, that’s why it… looks like that. I’ll text you his address too.”

“...I’ll go after this. And I’ll text you when I find something out…”

Ouma’s apartment building was slightly further from campus than most, in a nondescript building that didn’t seem to suit someone as bombastic as him. Clutching his messenger bag, Saihara scaled the stairs to the fifth floor, a bit put off by how quiet it was. He half expected to round the corner and see corpses everywhere.

Finally, he came to his goal: Room 507. It was dark inside, and Saihara began to feel like a voyeur as he peeked in the tiny window next to the door before giving two unsteady knocks.

“Ouma-kun…?” There was no response, and Saihara felt his fingertips start to shake as his pulse sped up. The hallway suddenly felt too humid, the artificial light sickening. “Amami-kun gave me a key, I’m coming in now- excuse me-”

He nearly dropped the key twice trying to jam it into the keyhole.

The door swung open, and Saihara knew things were bad when he was happy he wasn’t greeted by a crime scene. Instead, Ouma’s apartment was remarkable in how unremarkable it was. Coursework and random notes littered the coffee table, and a gaming system sat humming away in front of the TV. There was even a half-dead potted plant clinging to life in the corner. It would almost be a normal bachelor pad if it weren’t for the very Oumaesque touches here and there, like a giant stuffed penguin (wearing a horse mask) sitting on the couch and a recycling bin overflowing with the spent corpses of his favorite nasty soda.

“Ouma-kun? Are you in here…? Um, answer me if you’re there…”

He wouldn’t have been able to hear the tiny noise if he hadn’t been listening closer than he ever had in his life. A muffled sound emanated from deeper in the apartment, sounding like the whine of a wounded animal.

As Saihara nearly knocked Ouma’s bedroom door down, he was immediately assailed by a scent completely unfamiliar yet utterly recognizable, and he felt his pounding heart leap into his throat. The smell of sex and hormones triggered something deep inside him, and he nearly buckled, grabbing onto the doorframe for support. Saihara’s brain scrambled to form a thought, a logical explanation for why his entire body felt like it was buzzing. Was this what… An omega smelled like? But Ouma was a beta, he’d said so… But this smelled deeper, like someone had amplified Ouma’s natural scent to a thousand times the strength… And it was utterly intoxicating… Could betas do that?

“I told you to get out!” Saihara snapped out of his reverie when the lump cocooned under the covers shrieked and tossed a pillow in his general direction. “Don’t look at me!”

________

Ouma whimpered as he pulled off his hoodie, the cool air hitting his heated skin. Saihara licked his dry lips as he let his gaze roam over Ouma’s body. He'd imagined Ouma’s bare skin so many times; his imagination had swelled with the mental image of the shorter student’s body naked and willing.

God, he was so cute…! He had the perfect pear shape, with wide hips and thick, juicy thighs that Saihara could imagine sinking his hands into… A small yet plump squishy belly that Saihara just wanted to nibble and suck on until it was purple with hickeys… Petite, perky breasts topped with adorably pink nipples… He was so soft and warm and curvy and gorgeous…!

Saihara’s eye twitched as he fought the urge to jump onto Ouma and mark him then and there, groping every inch of flesh he could get his hands on. He needed Ouma now. Every last nerve ending felt like it was on fire, burning for the omega, burning with sheer want. Something dark and primal was clawing its way to the top of his consciousness, something that wanted to fuck Ouma until he couldn't anymore.

Ouma jumped as a growl forced its way out of Saihara’s throat, and the small part of his brain that was still thinking rationally felt a tiny bit of horror.

“O-Oh my god, Ouma-kun, I'm so sorry, that just- slipped out-”

“I-It’s fine… um… want to do my leggings?” Ouma muttered the last part, and Saihara felt the weight of what he had just said sink in as the other boy wiggled and squirmed, pressing his thick thighs together and looking away.

As Saihara peeled the leggings off, he realized, with a twitch of his dick, that the smaller male wasn't wearing anything underneath. The idea of Ouma strolling around his apartment commando, whimpering as the seams of the stretchy material rubbed against his aching clit, made Saihara’s already-painfully-hard cock practically explode.

“...Sorry…” Ouma murmured, snapping Saihara out of his hormonal haze. Saihara peered down at him in utter confusion.

“It's just that my thighs are really gross and I hate them.” Ouma pulled his knees to his chest, looking like a downtrodden puppy. His expression was sullen as

“D-Don't tease me-” Ouma whimpered, a sob making its way into his voice. “I can't take it… I-I need Shuuchan’s cock so bad, I'll die-”

_______

“Mark me- I need- please-”

Before he could think, he was leaning in and tearing into Ouma’s inviting neck with his teeth,

Ouma flat-out screamed, his body quaking as the hormones flooded him. Saihara steadied his partner, not even registering that Ouma’s nails were raking down his back, drawing cherry-red drops of blood.

“Good boy… good boy… you're such a good omega…” Saihara murmured the words into Ouma’s ear like a mantra as he rocked into him. “God, you're amazing-”

He was close now, losing the rhythm of his thrusts as he fucked Ouma mercilessly. And he could tell Ouma was close too- his cries had become less and less coherent, devolving into the wails and caterwauls of a mating kitty.

---

Ouma’s face was red with exertion and lust, big round tears of pleasure rolling down his cheeks and pooling on the pillow. Saliva dripped from his open mouth, his swollen lips parted as he gasped and moaned and struggled for breath. A giant red mark, ringed with pinpricks of blood, stood out on his slim neck.

He was completely wrecked, and Saihara had never seen anything sexier.

“Shuuchan, I-I'm gonna-”

Ouma’s pussy tightened around him, and the omega let out a strangled cry as he came, hips quivering. His voice broke and turned into a

----

Couldn't think. His entire mind was blank. All he could think about was the warmth of his omega. He wordlessly pulled him closer.

His omega smelled so good, his scent mixed with Saihara’s.

Ouma’s conscious thought returned before Saihara’s.

“Shuuchan… I'm all sticky.”