Thump!Thump!Thump!
Junpei can feel himself slowly going crazy.
Every night it's the same routine as the sounds of the neighbor living above him grew to a crescendo, forcing the boy to smother his head with his pillow in an attempt to block out drunken footfalls of heavy boots. Sometimes there was music, sending a steady thump of bass through the thin plaster walls until it rattled into the edges of his boxspring.
"Shut up!" he huffs, flopping over in his bed for the hundredth time. The sun is going to be up in a few hours, meaning he'll have to get ready for school. And he hasn't even fallen asleep yet!
He checks his phone. It's almost 3:00. Fuck! He's going to be miserable today if he can't get some rest soon.
Thump!Thump!Thump!
"Ugh! Enough already!"
He throws back the twisted sheets and stands on his bed. Grabbing the chair from his desk, he flips it upside down before smacking all four legs against his ceiling in a pure fit of anger.
BANG!BANG!BANG!
Junpei freezes in place. He can't believe he just did that! Normally he moves to the couch for relief when the noise is at its worst, even though it isn't much quieter in the living room either. He's never responded to the sounds before. Maybe the guy upstairs will be a little quieter now?
THUMP-THUMP! THUMP-THUMP!
Or not.
The stomping returns with more force, much more deliberate this time and directly above where Junpei teetered on his mattress, weak from exhaustion. What a jerk! Who makes more noise after being chastised? The neighbor is most likely a drinker as it explained the music and why he'd been stomping around clumsily in heavy shoes so early in the morning. Maybe he came home too wasted to remember to take them off. It's so inconsiderate!
The boy stares at his ceiling angrily, trying to gauge precisely where the stomps are coming from. He follows them across the room until he hears a screech of the upstairs balcony door sliding open. His neighbor is outside. Crossing his arms, Junpei sits on the edge of his mattress, eyes focussed on his own window knowing what's coming next. He can practically count down the minutes until the glowing cherry of a discarded cigarette is flicked onto his windowsill. There's always an ash pile waiting for him on the ledge by morning that seemed much too neatly constructed to be unintentional.
Right on cue, a filter plinks against the glass. The neighbor was fucking with him.
On any other night, Junpei would count his teeth, keeping the peace to minimize the already palpable tension. But tonight he was pissed off that whoever lived above had communicated back instead of taking the hint.
He stomps to the window, hefting it open before sticking his head out into the cold air.
"Hey!" he shouts up at the shadow still hovering above him.
Through the metal grate of the balcony landing, the man upstairs looks down between his feet.
"'Hey' yourself." he retorts back oddly as he sways in place.
He's drunk, Junpei reminds himself, bolstering his courage to confront the jerk nonetheless.
"Keep your trash to yourself, and cool it with all your stomping!" the boy snaps, flinging a handful of cigarette butts back where they came from. They scatter harmlessly against the wrought iron grate, cascading back down like disgusting paper snowflakes. Junpei glares angrily nonetheless.
He isn't expecting the bemused chuckle in response to his tantrum, or the way the man squats lower to get a better look at who's scolding him. With the streetlight illuminating the man from behind, all Junpei can make out is a large silhouette. The boy shrinks back into his room, fearing he might be spat on or worse.
"Where you goin'?" The enormous brute is already lighting another cigarette. He blows the smoke straight up.
"To sleep. I have school tomorrow," Junpei grumbles.
"Sorry. Do you… like school?"
"Why do you care? I'm always exhausted thanks to you!" the boy snaps, slamming his window shut with visible irritation. It springs back open slightly, refusing to latch. Whatever. It can just stay open. His room is always too stuffy anyway.
His fists are shaking at his sides. The huff of his breath through his nose is the loudest sound in the world. He stalks back to his bed and plunks his head back down, fully knowing his heart rate is much too elevated to get any rest.
Junpei was ready for the neighbor to throw his nasty attitude right back in his face. He's accustomed to the harshness of others. It's always been his reality. Even when doing his best to lay low and not cause any commotion that would bring unwanted attention, trouble always sought him out. He'd been chased, cornered, hit with glass bottles and fists, and kicked into less than feigned unconsciousness again and again until his pursuers lost interest then moved on until the next time. There was always a next time. The worst of his bullies tell him that he was a born victim. After so many years, he started believing it too, earning more than his fair share of scars to make his suffering a physical burden to keep hidden as well. He's used to that too.
So why did the man upstairs have to sound so nice?
It isn't long before he hears the neighbor moving again, though much more quietly this time he notices. The steps are softer. Maybe he was just too heavy to step lightly? He did look pretty big even while hunched over.
The following silence gives Junpei temporary peace, believing he may have earned himself a decent night's peace. Until he hears the sawing drone of snoring coming through the ceiling.
"You've got to be kidding me!" he groans, once again smothering himself with a pillow. He needs to calm down. His agitation is feeding into another growing concern he wishes he could forget about.
His thighs rub together absently, toes curling in his socks. Fuck…So much for not working himself up. His heart beating like this for so long only triggers his current condition. There's an aching throb between his legs that just isn't going away.
Whether it be at home or at school, when his hormones decide to go into overdrive, there's no stopping the agonizing pulse. He has to excuse himself from classes under the guise of illness just to get a moment's peace to relieve the pressure that woefully distracts him. Some days all it takes is a scrape of the edge of his seat to set it off. Or if he happens to pass by the boy's locker room as the basketball team is finishing up with showering, the noxiously powerful musk that escapes from the room as each boy exits floods the hallways like clockwork at the end of the school day. That's what always sends his heart into overdrive until he can feel his pulse popping in his ears. At the ring of the final bell, he has to hold his breath before exiting his classroom and running at full speed to the exit. Once home, he can safely undress and grind his frustrations into the corner of his mattress to his heart's content.
With a groggy sigh, Junpei assumes his usual position, tucking a pillow between his legs to sit on as he scoots to the edge of the bed. He arches his back and circles his hips against the soft bulk beneath his ass, using the leverage of one foot on the floor to grind himself in a steady rhythm. Even through his shorts, it relieves a little of the pressure in his swollen vulva. It would feel much better if he wasn't so tired, but at least he has the energy to take the edge off after a few minutes of spirited rocking. No matter how long he pleasured himself this way, the feelings would return shortly with a vengeance. He could edge himself right to the border of orgasm but could never do enough to actually finish. Some nights it only grew worse, forcing him to mindlessly sway for over an hour before passing out from sheer exhaustion. Or if he needed it badly enough, he'd try to sate himself with the handle of his hairbrush, squeaking his sounds of pleasure behind clenched teeth. It feels like this will end up being one of those nights too.
Tomorrow is going to suck.
If the boy below could see how the tenant above him was living, he would have probably kept his mouth shut.
Toji Fushiguro had moved in a little under six months ago after being laid off from his last job. His severance package barely covered the rent for this shithole as it was, and his cash is quickly running out as the months tick by. He can easily drink himself to a point where he can be indifferent to anyone disturbing the peace around him. It isn't his fault the building construction is shoddy and cheap. He could be tiptoeing around and still hear a complaining thump beneath his feet wherever he lives. He's always been heavy on his feet, especially when he drinks.
But drinking is the only way to dull his senses enough to distract himself from who's living directly under him. Every hour of every day he could smell the heady sweetness that by now has seeped into his own skin, swimming through his psyche in parasitic obsession.
The musk of an omega in heat.
The sudden shout from below had startled Toji too much to respond the way he wanted to when they'd finally exchanged words. Truthfully he knew his drunken steps would eventually rouse the doe-eyed boy who passed him at the apartment complex steps every afternoon while he smoked. Of course he'd always planned these pseudo-encounters every day. He quickly became aware that oftentimes the boy came staggering up the steps with clear evidence of being involved in a fight. It concerned Toji greatly. And interested him.
They never made direct eye contact, Toji always being the one to look away just before being caught staring. It wasn't his fault he could smell that boy coming from several blocks away. But he did purposefully leave his window open at 3 pm each afternoon, knowing when the scent would come wafting through his living room on a south-bound breeze. It's the only thing he has to look forward to most days, as pathetic as that sounds. Even he knows this borderline stalking can get him into trouble. The kid still wore a high school uniform, for Christ's sake. Toji knows he shouldn't be indulging this much into his fantasies, but it's as if his body moves on its own when the smell pierces his nostrils. In the blink of an eye, his hand is on the door, cigarette box nearly crushed in his anxious grip as he descends the stairs two at a time.
I only want a sniff, he lies to himself each time, knowing full well it can never be enough to cure this new compulsion.
He sluggishly made his way out of bed after 1 pm. The best way to not have to deal with himself or his disgusting thoughts for the majority of the day was simply to remain unconscious. That alone should be enough evidence for him to see how helplessly he's spiraling.
"For fuck's sake," he swears in frustration as he pushes on the stairwell door distinctly marked PULL. That shit is a fire hazard waiting to happen.
Toji leans against the brick, parking a cigarette between his lips without lighting it. He doesn't want anything masking the scent as his neighbor walks by. His watch says it's seventeen minutes after. The kid is running late today, but he can still smell him coming. Although he notices right away there's a bitter tang mixed with the usual scent he's grown accustomed to. The kid must've had another bad day. That's too bad.
Toji keeps his eyes trained on the sidewalk, finally able to see a dark blue speck in the distance growing closer. He recognizes that speck even from here. Instead of spending this time intoxicating himself with the wafting perfume of that familiar sweetness, now he only grows more nervous with each passing second. He definitely recognizes the copper salt of blood. The kid's been fighting again.
It isn't a surprise to Toji in the least. Occasionally the boy came home appearing ragged with his uniform mussed and torn. He's clearly the target of bullying. If the blood smell is already reaching Toji from here, it has to be more than just a few scrapes.
His curiosity gets the better of him as the boy comes clearer into view. Toji forgets to be subtle about his staring. The kid looks upset, angrily wiping away the blood trickling from his nose while sniffling back frustrated tears with much difficulty. Walking with his head down, he limps his way up the sidewalk slowly.
Junpei raises his head and realizes he's being watched, immediately switching his expression to one of great annoyance. It's no shock to him to see the man from upstairs here outside, seemingly waiting for him. He's out here every day, smoking his disgusting cigarettes and leaving the filters on the ground.
What a prick.
"What are you looking at?" Junpei huffs. He's in no mood to be teased by his neighbor again.
Thankfully Toji chooses to overlook this aggression.
"What happened to you?" he asks.
"Nothing," the boy mumbles, not wanting to divulge his problems to a stranger. It was enough work to keep his problems from his mother.
Junpei stalks past the man nearly blocking the doorway with his broad shoulders, not bothering to excuse himself while brushing past. Consciously he makes sure to hold his breath, lest he inhale the stink of cigarette smoke. It's a long walk up to his floor, and he's already looking forward to a bath to relax his muscles and hide the worst of his bruising.
He takes the elevator up, avoiding the extra work of stairs.
"I'm home," he announces needlessly into the empty apartment. No one was ever there to respond.
Thanks to her night job, Nagi Yoshino was always asleep when Junpei got home from school. She would be awake within an hour of her shift starting, mutter a hasty "good morning" and "good night," then she would leave until the early morning hours well after Junpei's classes began. They often went days without a full conversation unrelated to his classes or what they needed from the grocery store. Little notes accumulated on the refrigerator, passing as meager parenting attempts.
Get to bed by 11
Eat something green
Take your meds
Be a good boy
It was annoying, but he left the notes where they'd been stuck. They offer little comfort to him, but it's the best his mother can do with her work schedule. He couldn't blame her.
Junpei unbuttons his uniform jacket after removing his shoes. Carefully he sniffs the sleeve that had come in contact with the man who'd spoken to him outside, expecting to be greeted by the bitter stink of tobacco. Instead he's shocked to find traces of earthy cedar, forcing him to breathe it in again just to be sure. It's oddly pleasant, rattling his focus and forcing him to stop dead in his tracks.
"Oh."
He blushes, becoming self aware of what he's doing. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he continues to the shower, more than ready to wash away the events of today. He sets the stopper to draw a bath, then reaches beneath the sink for the epsom salts he keeps to treat his worst pains.
"Shit…"
He stoops over, peering inside when he doesn't feel the familiar bag in its usual spot. He must've used the last of it. He'll have to pick up more soon. It's been a rough school year.
As the tub is filling, steaming up the bathroom pleasantly with heat, Junpei eases himself into the water slowly, wincing as he moves. He's definitely going to be sore in the morning. He shouldn't have fired off his mouth when he got cornered today, but he'd been running on fumes, leaving his temper on a hair-trigger all day. The taunts of his classmates are still fresh on his mind. Their slurs were anything but creative but they dug in deep, repeating in his head until he feels his tears begin to flow again.
Junpei doesn't know what makes him reach for his uniform jacket again, but he holds it to his nose and inhales the oddly comforting scent anyway. Humming lightly as he exhales, there's an unexpected tingling sensation rising in his stomach. He twists his feet together beneath the faucet stream.
Why did this aroma make his heart beat so quickly? Or maybe the temperature of his bath is too hot. Whatever the cause, he's suddenly overcome with the desire to lay his head on his jacket to better breathe it in. Tucking it beneath his cheek, he lays sideways and reaches with his toes to shut the water off before the tub gets too full. With the smell of an older man heavy in his nose, he's easily distracted from the memories of his horrible day.
Maybe tomorrow he could try brushing past the man again.
.
.
.
By midnight Toji is already four drinks deep. His head is buzzing and he bangs his shin on a kitchen table leg on his way to the couch.
"Dammit!" he curses, rubbing the spot vigorously although he can't feel any pain yet. He's notorious for waking up with black and blue all up his legs as evidence of his clumsiness.
He flops down, sore and sour from his afternoon. He shouldn't have spoken to the boy who lives beneath him. That was crossing a boundary he didn't realize they had established. Now more than ever the sweet smell of omega is practically wafting up through his floorboards as the neighbor below tosses and turns in a fitful attempt to rest despite his aches and pains. Toji can nearly envision the boy clearly, breathing heavily with that silky dark hair falling across his eyes
Stop that, he scolds himself for the millionth time.
Stop thinking about him and go to fucking sleep.
Another shot or two ought to do it. It's too bad all he has to drink is dry gin. Not his favorite, but it does get the job done eventually. He likes whiskey more, even if the hangovers were worse for him due to the liquor's natural sweetness. He wishes he had a glass of something sweet tonight. Although that would only feed into his frustrations further. One taste of sugar on his tongue would surely drive him downstairs and have him pounding down the door of the boy down below for a taste of something even sweeter.
Toji doesn't even make it to his bedroom, sprawling out on the futon in his living room instead once his vision starts to spin. Clinging to lucidity, he slides open the balcony door before re-flopping down. He pulls a cigarette from his pack and enjoys a smoke without getting up, ashing directly onto the floor without a single care.
Even the smell of tobacco isn't enough to fully mask the young omega sleeping below. Toji's hand slips into his pants on its own. He'd been close enough to read the name sewn onto the boy's backpack this afternoon and even now he can't stop his tongue from trying it out aloud just to hear it.
"Junpei…."
It had the same kanji for both pure and peaceful. Toji finds it so beguiling that his teeth sink into his lower lip as his grip around his shaft tightens. He doesn't even have to imagine the scent of Junpei's musk to aid him as it generously pumps into his apartment through the open window. How pure would the boy be? Longingly Toji licks his lips, straining to taste the impossible in the air itself. What he wouldn't give to bury his face in the source of his intoxication. To lose himself for hours in a soft, slender body wiggling with enthusiasm just for him.
He has to pinch the tip of his cock to stop himself from cumming too soon. Fuck! That was close. Gin always makes his orgasms slippery, but he isn't through with his fantasy yet. Carefully he edges himself with guarded strokes, groaning with frustration. The smell of the boy's blood earlier only pinpointed his fascination even more. Toji wants to know how he got those bruises and cuts, maybe even give someone a taste of their own medicine for fucking with his–neighbor.
Shit, He'd nearly claimed him mentally as his omega. He can't be doing that, even in a daydream it's entirely too much. It's a line he can't skate within good conscience. But the same sickness that repels him is rooting his hand tighter around his cock, forcing his speed to increase. He's already leaking a steady stream of precum tickling across his knuckles. There's still time to stop.
Pervert… he berates himself again but doesn't slow down.
The boy was clearly in need of help yet all Toji can do is lie here masturbating to the smell of his heat like a sick pining fool.
Reason isn't with him anymore. He's picturing the circling motions of pale swinging hips riding on top of his. The imaginary strokes of trembling fingers taking both of his hands to remain steady tease him to the edge once more. What kind of sounds would a sweet-smelling boy like that make? Would he restrain himself from being heard? Maybe stuff the corner of a pillow into his mouth out of shyness? Or would he scream when he felt the pulse of a grown man's knot inflating him to the point of being impossibly full? God, what a sight that would be! It's been too long since he felt his knot swell inside someone. He can never work himself up enough on his own to fully inflate himself to peak arousal. Fuck, how he longs to feel the squeeze of a whimpering omega impaled on his cock, and to lift delicate little feet clear off the floor with the thickness of his knot as he pounds his way inside from behind.
Another curse fumbles from Toji's lips as he relents to his last thought, cumming in thick spurts across his shirt. A fiery sting on his opposite hand immediately forces his attention from his afterglow. His forgotten cigarette burned down to the second joint of his fingers. There's also a tiny hole sizzling into the futon.
He sucks on the back of his fingers with remorse. Serves him right for jerking off to a high school student. What the fuck is wrong with him?
"Shit…" he mutters.
He takes off his shirt, then stumbles up to pour himself another drink.
.
.
.
.
.
The drone of midafternoon traffic coupled with the shouts of pedestrians and cab drivers
is blaring in through the open window. Toji's head is killing him, pulsing with the honk of each passing car. His foot kicks an empty gin bottle that rolls across the floor. It might as well be a drum solo against his eardrum. With swimming vision he clutches the sides of his head and nearly vomits all at once.
The sun is a bastard.
With bright light stabbing his eyes cruelly, Toji fumbles his way to the medicine cabinet above his bathroom sink. He needs aspirin. A lot of it.
His fingers clumsily snap off the bottle cap and pry their way inside. Empty.
"Dammit!" he swears but instantly regrets raising his voice as the veins at his temple pulse even harder.
There's a drug store just up the road. He grabs his house keys and sunglasses to shield his eyes before heading out the door.
Deciding to mercifully skip the stairs, he takes the elevator instead. A big mistake on his part. As the car begins its descent, his stomach rolls with an audible gurgle. When the elevator doors open at the bottom floor, Toji loudly empties the contents of his stomach into a potted plant in the lobby.
"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans, wiping the corner of his mouth as he steps outside.
He makes a solemn vow to never drink gin again for as long as he lives. Whiskey would never treat him this way.
Even through his sunglasses, the light of day is agonizing, but at least he doesn't have very far to walk. His headache pounds with each step. Why didn't he drink any water before leaving? Idiot!
The ding of the drugstore entrance bell is like an icepick into his brain.
"Good afternoon!" the clerk behind the counter chirps merrily, earning herself a poisonous glare from the man walking in.
"Aspirin," he demands.
She gulps, pointing a hesitant finger to the back of the store.
"Aisle three. Past the cough syrup."
Without thanking her he heads toward the multicolored packages on the shelf, each promising relief. He buys extra so he doesn't run out again for a while and also grabs the largest bottle of water he can find.
After making his purchase, he wastes no time ripping into one of the boxes on his way out. He shakes out four pills and gulps them down along with half of the water he exits. Relief won't be instant, but at least he can't get any worse.
There's nothing else he'd rather do than crawl back into bed to wait for the meds to do their job. He leans against the outside of the store window, closing his eyes and willing his headache to go away faster. Inhaling deeply, he swears he must be imagining things, but the faintest trace of familiar sweetness is tickling his nose.
Sniffing again to be sure Toji plainly recognizes the scent, but he's in disbelief. That's odd. There's no reason he should be smelling Junpei this early.
Ignore it. Just go home, he tells himself. His head throbs in agreeance.
But his feet veer toward the source of the smell, ignoring all logic. He sniffs along with each step, feeling only a little self conscious of literally hunting for his young neighbor in public like this. His pace quickens as the scent becomes stronger. He feels himself drawing near, but Toji picks up something else that makes his skin prickle with alarm.
The bitter smell of fear and blood.
It was a big mistake on Junpei's part to think he could have ducked out of class unnoticed. He was in so much pain. The stiffness of his chair cruelly reminded him he still needed to pick up more epsom salts today. It distracted him throughout the morning along with his exhaustion from lack of sleep. After receiving feedback for his last math test, another failing grade, he'd more than given up for the day and set his sights on the exit.
He had hateful eyes upon his back as he slipped through the hallways past fellow students meandering reluctantly to their homerooms as the lunch hour ended. With malicious intent, three classmates followed behind, waiting until they were off school property to ambush him and make their presence known.
Junpei heard the footsteps coming and broke into a sprint, attempting to take a shortcut through a side road. He found it to be blocked by a huge delivery truck with no driver in sight, then he felt someone grab his shoulder from behind, rudely whipping him around.
Nishimura, class president by means of cheating alone, found great joy in the fear he saw in Junpei's eyes. It was the only thing that allowed a beta male like himself to take part in what he believed was alpha behavior.
"Leaving school early, Yoshino? What's the hurry? You get your period or something?"
The other two boys found this hilarious, one of them taking the chance to hit Junpei in his nose, knowing full well how easily it bleeds. Deep red rivulets stream down behind his fingers as Junpei stumbles backward, temporarily blinded by the pain.
"Look! He really is on his period now. Haha! Better clean that up, freak!" the boy howls.
The first boy cocks his head, reaching to grab a fistful of Junpei's hair and smiling when he sees the small round scars burned into the boy's forehead. Memoirs of his previous work. He sniffs the air.
"Na, he's not on his period. He's in heat. Can't you guys tell?"
"Is that what I'm smelling? It's been in our homeroom all week. That shit stinks! Didn't anyone teach you how to control yourself, Yoshino?" one boy asks as he waves a hand in front of his face.
"Yeah, he smells like a slut but I know how to fix that. Why don't we all help him feel better so he can focus more in school?" Nishimura suggests with a wicked grin twisting his features.
Junpei shuts his eyes, not wanting to see what happens next. The laughter of his tormentors is ringing in his ears. Tears are already sliding down his cheeks as Nishimura reaches beneath his uniform and slips past the tightness of his binder to force it up. Greedy hands fondle his exposed chest, forcing humiliated sounds from his throat.
"Jeez, Yoshino. Your little tits don't look half bad. We should have been doing this all along instead of our other games."
Junpei hides his face in his hands, refusing to reply. He's pinched painfully, making him yelp in an embarrassingly high pitch.
"Aww, that was cute. What other sounds do you make?" Nishimura laughs as he repeats the action, twisting as he pulls.
Keeping his eyes closed, Junpei feels a second hand tugging and twisting his other nipple until it hardens. He hates how it feels, but the stimulation is already too much for him to withstand. The throb that hasn't ceased between his legs pounds in full force, making him whine in both terror and need. He curses his body for loving this torture, biting his lip to try muffling his sounds to no avail.
"Fuck, he squeaks just like a balloon!" one of the other boys comments with a laugh.
Junpei screams louder as he feels the scrape of teeth closing around the tip of his left nipple. Nishimura had gotten bold and bitten him. Frantically he tries to shove his assaulter back, but it's no use. Nishimura is stronger and pins his wrists.
His friends take the chance to move in.
"I want a taste. Move over!"
"Hey, me too!"
Nishimura isn't budging. "I've got another idea. Gimme a cigarette. I'm feeling artistic."
The punks are much too distracted by their cornered prey, completely unaware of the enormous figure rushing up from behind them.
Hearing the cries of Junpei in distress, Toji ran at full speed, following his senses to the source and flying into a rage when he finally located him.
Toji snatches the collar of a boy, the one who put his disgusting mouth on his omega, yanking him away roughly. There isn't even a trace of restraint as he pulls his fist back.
BAM!
It feels so good that Toji does it again. Harder.
BAM! BAM!
Immediately the boy's friends rush to his aid, though keeping a safe distance to avoid catching their own beating.
"Whoa! Hey, man! Chill out! We're just highschoolers, dude! You can't hit him like that!" one of them shouts.
The man cocks his arm back, turning to lock eyes with the sniveling punks making excuses for their comrade.
"Y-you can't hit a minor!" the boy insists, sounding less sure of himself as he spies one of Nishimura's bloody teeth lying on the pavement.
"Holy shit…." the kid whimpers. Whoever this man is, he doesn't give a fuck about laws.
Toji releases his hold, letting Nishimura drop limply to the ground with a thud. He takes slow menacing steps toward the two remaining boys until he's looming over them. They reek of cowardice.
"If I ever see or hear about you or anyone else laying so much as a finger on Junpei again, I'll be calling your parents to collect you… from the morgue."
They don't question him. Seeing their friend struggling to breath through his bloodied nose and mouth is convincing enough. It only takes them a split second to realize he's letting them go. Ducking past with expedient haste, they pick up Nishimura together and get him to his feet, half-dragging him from the alley and cautiously looking back every few steps to make sure Toji isn't changing his mind at the last second. They have good instincts. It takes all of his restraint not to follow them and finish what he started, but something more important is holding him back.
Beyond the blood stains on the pavement, Toji's eyes finally meet Junpei's, which were still wet with tears. The boy was petrified when he saw his neighbor come out of nowhere to his rescue. He sniffles as he readjusts his uniform, once again settling his binder over his breasts to press them down. There's no way the man didn't see them already. Junpei hangs his head, refusing to look up as a pair of worn black shoes come into view in front of him.
"Are you hurt?" a deep but gentle voice asks.
The trembling omega can only shake his head, trying hard to keep himself from crying even more.
Toji tries again. "Can you stand up?"
"I'm fine. You can go now," the boy whispers.
It's true. Toji has no reason to linger behind. If anyone saw what happened they might have already called the police, but still he can't bring himself to walk away.
The bitterness of the boy's fear is dissipating from the air, leaving behind the smell of his musky heat. Shit. Those boys must have tortured him enough to excite his body against his will. He can't let Junpei walk home alone now. What if someone else were to get the same idea and attack him? There's only one solution.
Toji kneels down. "Don't be ridiculous. I can carry you back to your apartment."
"No, thank you. I– Oh!"
Before the boy can resist or finish arguing, incredibly strong hands lift him off the ground easily. He gasps lightly at the contact, but settles immediately as the wonderfully comforting smell of alpha fills his nose. He squeezes his eyes closed, this time in bliss. The smell is sure to saturate his clothing entirely. Junpei blushes, unable to remember the last time someone picked him up or held him like this. The pattern of Toji's steps eases him into an unexpectedly peaceful state.
Toji's voice rumbles through his chest. "Are you okay?"
But there's no response. The boy is unconscious in his arms.
To be continued...
