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The moment that bonding seminar took place, the last thing Yoichi expected was to end up as Vivien Hugo's roommate. That terribly arrogant Frenchman with whom he had played one of the worst matches of his life.
What he didn't know either was that he would end up underneath him, receiving the very real reasons why people said young alphas were to be "feared" way more than old alphas, contrary to popular belief.
It all started with a silly question. A stupid question that Yoichi—an omega way too petite compared to the Frenchman, who was 6'2" of pure muscle built on top-tier football training—couldn't help but ask once the mood between them wasn't so bad anymore. Right now, in fact, they tolerated each other much more than when they first started.
The question?
— Hey, Vivien. What do you smell like?
Everyone in that camp used, by manual rule, scent-blocking patches to prevent pheromones. Many football players, not just Isagi, were still omegas, and that was completely respectable. Therefore, with society evolving for the better, any trace of pheromones in sports was neutralized. Omegas didn't smell, alphas didn't either. They were like two normal human beings dueling—in this case—for a ball.
The black-haired boy had innocently wondered on more than one occasion what his teammates smelled like. Not out of perversion, of course, but out of pure curiosity. He had a rather prodigious nose; he had the ability to smell rain before it fell! So, of course, being a teenager, he sometimes had a thousand stupid questions running through his head.
That was one of them.
The redhead had remained silent upon hearing the question, and Isagi felt that maybe he had done the wrong thing by asking. There was a slightly intense clash of gazes, where the shorter boy didn't understand the reason for the sudden tension.
— What do you smell like?
The counter-question took him by surprise. It made him doubt why there was so much resistance to answering, but either way, he didn't think it was anything strange.
— Lemon meringue pie with Chantilly cream and blueberries. It's a tart scent with a bit of sugar; not all alphas like the idea of smelling that kind of aroma. It's not cloyingly sweet, and therefore, it's not very attractive.
In the silence of the room, Yoichi already understood that he had voluntarily locked himself in with a predator upon seeing those dark eyes grow way too interested and his nostrils flare.
— Would you like to smell me, Isagi? If you don't want to, I'll leave the room for tonight. You decide. I won't complain.
— But isn't that forbidden? I mean, taking off the neutralizing patches—
— Nobody said they had to find out about it, Isagi.
His heart raced at the drop in the other's voice. The thick French accent slipping through the smooth translation of his earbuds—which were almost a part of him by now—made him painfully and instinctively look down.
Isagi wasn't a submissive omega. But the redhead was terribly imposing, and that simply made him obey. Out of instinct, and because deep down, that was exactly what he wanted.
He raised his blue eyes from behind his eyelashes—an action that, from what he could notice, interested the taller boy—and stared at him.
Obsidian and blue.
— Okay. Can I smell you?
A smile, a bit clumsy while trying to be predatory and subtle at the same time, appeared on the Frenchman's unyielding face. He brought his hands—huge hands—to his neck gland and peeled off the patch. He did the same with the ones on his wrists.
Instantly, the scent that flooded the shorter boy's nostrils dazed him. In fact, it was hard to breathe the more the other's pheromones reached his nose.
They said young alphas smelled a thousand times stronger than older ones. Isagi thought it was a myth until today. Hugo smelled like wine—that aged, vintage wine, strong and terribly hot. Like crushed cloves scattered all over the wine and a very intense scent of rosemary. It was so much that suddenly, the shorter boy felt flushed.
He slowly backed away on the bed where he was sitting, feeling something happening to him. He felt his chest heaving, like when running a demanding match, and his body was sweating. He felt something like a fever striking him, but it definitely wasn't a fever. A sticky, heavy slick that ran between his thighs and pooled in his underwear.
Within minutes, he was practically prostrate before the aroma.
— Isagi. Are you okay? I didn't think you'd be this susceptible—I just thought it would be a joke and you'd cover your nose because it's so strong and I'd laugh a little. Isagi? Can you hear me?
The shorter boy felt completely dazed. He felt large hands, a worried tone of voice, and that scent of wine in all its glory intoxicating him.
But he was still fully conscious.
— Your pheromones... they're alcohol. You got me drunk —he said with a muted voice, while Hugo's hands held his cheeks, trying to wake him up. He saw a slight frown on the other's face, his eyes narrowed in a grimace of regret and guilt.
It made Yoichi feel so soft that, for some reason, he got needy and snuggled into the taller boy's massive arms. As if it were a drug, he hid in his neck and inhaled so hard his brain melted a little more. He felt the Frenchman try to stop him; in fact, he put a hand over his face to push him away and cover his nose. Worried; so cute, Isagi thought.
— Do you want to smell me?
Silence. Isagi's voice drifted, indeed, like that of a drunk person. He felt Hugo's intense gaze on him, hesitating. Hesitating between doing the right thing or following instinct.
— You are not in your right mind to ask for that. Move away, I'm going to put my patches back on and you are going to sleep. You're just being affected by pheromones entering your system and playing tricks on you. There's no reason to keep this going.
He tried to push him off, but Yoichi had always been stubborn. He clung as best as he could to the broad back, and amid the wrestling, he climbed on top of him and brought him down. Not because he was stronger, no, but because the alpha didn't know what to do. He could tell by his ragged breathing, his nervous gaze, and his clumsy grips. In fact, he didn't even want to touch him.
— I am in my right mind. I know my state was your pheromones' fault. I can tell you're scared because you didn't want to cause this feeling in me. But isn't it rude to reject my scent?
Hugo raised an eyebrow, deciding whether to behave as he should or let himself be seduced by an omega who definitely WAS in his right mind. Horny as hell, but without losing his reason.
After all, he was a young alpha eager to taste a piece of the stubborn omega. Feeling pathetic at his lack of willpower, he growled in return.
— Fine. Take off the patches.
The Japanese boy grew pleased and did it quickly, almost desperately. Almost. And the redhead considered that aroma should be illegal. Yes, it smelled delicious, like tart lemon desserts with a lot of bittersweet marmalade. Whipped cream swirled on top and plenty of blueberries. Hugo rolled his eyes from the olfactory pleasure and, just as his counterpart had done, placed his nose against his neck. And both scented each other with intensity.
That was the beginning of the end, you could say.
Hugo took the liberty of running a tongue over his gland; the taste of sweet lemon exploded on his tongue enough to make him, for the first time in his life, think of nothing. Absolutely nothing. There were no numbers, analysis, predictions, or destiny.
— You taste like Chantilly.
There was a pleasure so immense, so terribly uncontrolled and so typical of a hormonal teenager, that he couldn't fully master it. If there were color in those two pits of pitch that were his eyes, anyone would notice how dilated his pupils were.
Yoichi let out a humiliating sound when, due to the terrible lack of control to which they were both escalating, he felt himself being squeezed by thick, strong arms that immobilized him. Hugo, with all the strength in the world, loomed over him and began to kiss him. A kiss, it broke his lips and exploded his desire to simply surrender to his hands. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. He tasted entirely like that spice of cloves.
Yoichi groaned into his mouth, and Hugo absorbed it like an addict.
— Tell me you want more. Please. I want to give you more.
Impatient (like he had never seen him before), Yoichi felt a massive hand span his face from side to side. It squeezed his cheeks, suffocating him in a way he shouldn't like. And ecstatic, he could only nod.
Another kiss was found between them while Hugo undressed him. Not completely; he pulled down his pants and underwear with so much desperation he almost tore them. He observed the shorter boy's erection, and the beautiful, sticky gloss caused by the slick.
— Wait. Wait, wait, wait.
Hugo was gripping his thighs so tightly that, when he pulled away, Yoichi distracted himself looking at the reddish-purple marks starting to bloom. Amid the thousands of hormones in his head, he watched Hugo step away to look for something on the only nightstand. He searched and searched.
Until he found something. Yoichi tilted his head, and his blue eyes lit up when he noticed what it was.
— A condom? But why?—
— They do it even in the Olympics, Yoichi. We aren't the first, nor will we be the last.
The voice (ecstatic, breathless, and uncontrolled) of his now French lover seemed to want to mock the situation a little. But his own arousal blinded him so much he couldn't even smirk with much grace.
He left it there, at hand, while (in a highly uncomfortable position due to the very noticeable difference in heights) it was Hugo who voluntarily placed himself between the shorter boy's legs. Ecstatic, he buried his face with more pleasure than Isagi anticipated to lick all the slick away. Meanwhile, like a talented bastard, he masturbated his erection.
With his nerves right on the surface, Yoichi writhed and had to cover his mouth so his cry wouldn't echo through the entire facility. He moved so much that an annoyed click escaped Hugo, who slapped the inner part of his thigh, which actually managed to make him hold still. But he trembled. He trembled so, so much that the redhead only told him, —Sh, sh, sh,— while continuing to prolong his torment.
He could cry. No, he reiterated; he was going to cry. Tears welled from his blue eyes like great waterfalls and open faucets. It felt so good. Everything smelled like wine and lemon. More, obviously, like wine. And that got him more and more drunk.
The alpha was so happy he could barely fit in his own skin. He devoured the omega—that pretty, stubborn omega he had wanted to try and conquer from the very beginning. Languid licks, the taste making him growl and roll his eyes. He masturbated him at the same time, fully enjoying the other's trembling and the way he squeezed his face when he tried to close his legs.
Hugo was never quiet. His mouth wasn't, and much less his mind. Why should he be quiet in bed?
— So delicious. You taste so good. The cream, I'll put it in here myself; that's what I want, yeah. I definitely need this.
Uncontrollable and intoxicated, he bit hard into the soft skin of Isagi's inner thigh. The boy shrieked, suffocating him between his thighs by reflex, and Hugo gloated when, raising his dark eyes, he saw the ejaculation spilled over the omega's beautiful pajama jersey.
He saw him red, a total mess, and decided he had to do more. The fingers entering softly—two very bold ones at the younger boy's entrance—made him tremble, but he received them so well.
— Bring your legs up, Yo. Do it. Do it and I'll give you your rewards, yeah?
Yoichi nodded and obeyed as best as he could, already too lost between his orgasm and reality. His brain was fried, his face red and wet. The fingers were big, thick, and filled him perfectly. If they didn't have a condom and had needed to stay right there, Yoichi wouldn't even have complained. The difference in size was always noticeable, but here it was overwhelming in a very good way. It filled him; they came out and those fingers went back in. It was obvious from his concentrated expression that he was doing this so methodically just to generate pleasure for him, and Yoichi suppressed the urge to groan solely because of that sweet factor.
He was melted, like ice cream under a 40°C summer sun. He felt like everything about him was tears of pleasure, sweat, and slick. Two fingers, then three that stretched him in such an exquisite and soft way that he didn't even feel any discomfort or pain.
A good lover. He is definitely a good lover.
The momentary emptiness of the fingers outside his body was replaced by a great, latent excitement when, taking off his jersey and pulling down his pants, Yoichi could finally see Hugo's nakedness. He was so big. Very big. He wasn't exactly thin, but the comparison was absurd. He looked so soft, so plush with muscle, that the little rational, non-horny part of Isagi thought that after this, he would give him many, many hugs.
He put the condom on quickly, and it was genuinely heavy. Yoichi observed, as his angle allowed him, a large erection for a large owner. It was well-groomed, neatly trimmed hair and the whole deal. Redhead? Of course, and what a treat; he had solved a doubt with that. Perfectly long and perfectly thick. Vivien Hugo was an angel.
Amid drunken laughs, Yoichi mocked the many fans of the Frenchman who would die to be in his position, strangely proud. Hugo enjoyed his laughs, even smiled upon hearing him, and hunched over to kiss him. Yoichi had to breathe for two things:
1. The intrusion of the redhead inside him.
2. The weight of the alpha on top of him.
He was crushing him, firmly holding his waist with one hand (which was enough with just one to almost take the whole thing), and his other full arm hugged his entire face. He was being crushed.
— I'm going to die, Hugo—
— I'm sorry, but I definitely cannot move from here.
He began to penetrate him, the complete bastard, with slow and sensual thrusts that melted him. He had the full weight of a mass of muscles on top of him, a difficult but very delicious member to take inside him, and a bunch of pheromones tearing his brain to shreds.
He was, however, reduced to a small, cute whimpering machine. Hugo went so softly it overwhelmed him and he enjoyed it at the same time; every thrust withdrew and went so deep each time that his eyes rolled back and his consciousness flickered. Hugo continued crushing him, but when he gave him a little air (almost none), he positioned himself to kiss his cheeks already covered in salt.
Yoichi hugged him, though he couldn't manage to encircle the muscular back on top of him. He scratched him very little, as he had such a noble and smooth rhythm that rough sex wasn't necessary to mark him heavily.
Though maybe he could try it.
— Could you... speed... increase it?
It was like switching personalities. The thrust and the rhythm shifted so brutally that the shriek escaping the omega was pathetic. In fact, it was so pathetic that the redhead squeezed his mouth completely shut just to prevent a possible and very valid interruption. Whimpering against his palm, he felt that now he really was going to die.
Between Hugo's beautiful face, the ceiling, and the way his feet moved uselessly and comically in the distance, he didn't know what to look at. Though he preferred to make eye contact with a very embarrassed and clumsy alpha, whom, in fact, keeping a gaze with was hard.
He did it in the moment out of pure arousal from seeing him like that, and out of pride. If he weren't so intoxicated, too, with hormones and sex, he wouldn't be able to look him in the face.
Ironically, and with his mouth covered, Yoichi had noticed all this time that the Alpha was just as noisy. He just hid it more. He growled, cursed in his native language, drooled, and called him by his name.
— Yoichi. Yoichi. So good... *Te remplir me fait tellement de bien. C'est tellement chaud. C'est tellement humide...*
Uh? He didn't understand the last part. Apparently, and it was about time, the earbuds flew across the mattress. He couldn't complain, however, because a dull thrust made him come, and from the trembling and groan of his companion, him too.
Yoichi couldn't handle that much and passed out.
He opened his eyes he didn't know how long afterward, but identified that he was clean, changed, and much more sane. It smelled like pheromones, yes, but it no longer affected him like in the first moment. Drowsy from the sudden nap, he sniffed himself only to notice the mere scent of someone else.
— You're finally awake, fuck! I THOUGHT I HAD KILLED YOU OR SOMETHING! That's it. I'm not having sex again for years.
A very panicked redhead yelled at him, and from the perfect translation, he deduced that he even took the trouble to put the earbuds on him for when he woke up.
— Twenty minutes unconscious, for God's sake. If you couldn't handle that level, I should have just kept doing it softly. I'm not listening to you anymore.
Yoichi was brutally scolded and then brutally snuggled. He wrapped him in a blanket at the same time the massive alpha hid him between his arms and simply forced him to sleep.
— Go to sleep now.
— ...Fine.
And he had no choice but to obey.
Tomorrow he would deal with the results and the discussions stemming from his silly question.