Chapter Text
"Miyuki Kazuya," Sawamura asks one day, looking up from his bowl of udon, "have you ever thought about us having sex?"
It was funny how a single question could completely destroy a working equilibrium.
"Have I ever thought…" Kazuya repeats. He puts his spoon and chopsticks down.
"About having sex!" Sawamura says again. "With me! Have you ever wanted to?"
Kazuya is frozen. He takes a careful breath, eyes flickering from Sawamura's eyes to his mouth, then to the strong frame of his shoulders, then back up.
"We've known each other such a long time, maybe it's weird for you to even look at me that way," Sawamura is blathering, "—just I've got my heat to think about again soon and I've got to make sure I have options, and—"
Kazuya can't help laughing. It's a little farther into the territory of hysterical than he would prefer, but sometimes leaning into it is the only way to keep his composure. After a minute he wipes his eyes and looks back at Sawamura, who is scowling at him.
"It's not that weird, Sawamura," he says. "Sure, I've thought about it a couple of times. You don't have anyone else lined up?"
"This is about options, Miyuki Kazuya, options!" Sawamura insists loudly, chopping his hand into his palm. "You're an alpha, maybe you don't understand these things! An omega's natural seasonal biology is nothing to be taken lightly! The right combination of trust and chemistry is absolutely vital!"
"Chemistry, hmm?" Kazuya asks, heart thumping in his ears. He turns so he can rest his foot on the rung of Sawamura's stool, shoe nudging gently at Sawamura's ankle. "Do you think we have that?"
Sawamura stares at him for a moment, his mouth startled open, but then something in him seems to abruptly crack. A flush blooms quickly over his cheeks and he turns Kazuya's way, trapping Kazuya's foot between his own. And more than that, a wave of his scent slowly rolls through the space between them, into Kazuya's nose and mouth.
Kazuya breathes it, trying not to be too obvious. It's a smell he's tried to ignore for years now — the heady smell of Sawamura's interest, with a unique tang to it like green wood.
"Well?" he asks, putting his palm on Sawamura's knee.
"Yeah," Sawamura says, smiling pinkly, "we have chemistry."
Kazuya still remembers first catching for this kid, that singular day in his first year of high school. He'd come on one of Rei's recruitment tours, an unpresented kid with an interesting pitch, and a soft woodsy smell that felt fresh in Kazuya's nose when he'd gotten back his borrowed uniform. He was wildly free with himself and his emotions in a way that Kazuya wasn't used to, in a way that he liked.
When he'd reappeared in the spring, he'd been wearing scent-blocking tape under his jaw like all high school players were required to, but occasionally a hint of that scent would still catch in Kazuya's nose and turn his head.
"What about you, Sawamura?" Kazuya asks, standing up and drawing close, stepping into the space between Sawamura's knees. "Have you thought about having sex with me before?"
Sawamura stays seated, a smile and a hint of… something… creeping over his face. "Of course I have."
Of course?
Kazuya laughs again.
Sawamura's first heat had come in the late spring of his first year, when he'd been on the second-string working with Chris. Kazuya still remembered the feeling when he'd heard why the two of them weren't at practice, a punch to the stomach that he'd laughed off.
Chris was a beta, but certainly an outstanding guy for any omega to choose for their first experience, respectful and kind. Sawamura on the other hand… brash, loud, idiotic Sawamura… an omega?
All of it had made something in Kazuya itch, in a way that he wasn't fully comfortable with.
Sawamura's second heat had come irregularly, more than a year and a half later, in the middle of winter break in Kazuya's final year. He'd been at his home in Nagano, and he'd been taken care of by his alpha friend, Wakana.
Kazuya had heard about it from Kuramochi.
"A gorgeous, baseball-playing alpha girl?!" Kuramochi had shrieked, bashing his thumbs into his video game controller and racking up some kind of high score. "Sawamura still says he doesn't even like her like that! Even after sharing a heat together! He has no idea how lucky he is — that bastard — gahhh!"
Hearing that, there had been a sick thrill in Kazuya's stomach that he'd tried to ignore.
"If he doesn't like her like that, isn't that good for you?" is all he'd ended up saying. "You can keep chasing her until she finally sees your face and runs away screaming."
"An alpha girl's not gonna run away screaming, Miyuki!" Kuramochi had yelled. "Geez, you wouldn't get it either would you?"
And then Kazuya had graduated.
Here, now, in the noodle shop, he hovers in the space between Sawamura's knees, continuing to breathe him in. He reaches up, fingers dragging intimately under Sawamura's ear and jaw where the scent is the strongest, coaxing more out. Scents don't always tell the full story, but at this moment Sawamura's is clear and bright with anticipation.
"Miyuki Kazuya," Sawamura says, low. "Are you going to kiss me?"
And he is. He's just about to make this earth-shattering move, when the shop owner slips over on the other side of the counter and quietly says, "Young sirs, your custom is deeply appreciated, but I worry that some of the other guests might be disturbed by some of your actions here… If you could possibly consider…"
"Our sincerest apologies!" Sawamura says hastily, jerking to his feet and bowing so quickly and deeply that he nearly bashes his head into the counter. "This humble one gravely repents for our inappropriate display—"
Kazuya's attention is captured by the exposed nape of Sawamura's neck in his low bow, and he has to blink away to keep himself from zeroing in. He grabs his jacket, and lets Sawamura grab his wrist. They pay and leave in silent agreement, ignoring the not even half-finished bowls of noodles that they're leaving behind. They've got more important things to discuss.
Kazuya's way is to keep focused on the baseball in front of him, so after entering university he didn't wonder (much) about Sawamura, or whether his juniors were catching for him properly, or who was taking care of him during the heat season. And when Sawamura had reappeared in front of him the next year (squawking loudly from the line of new first years when Kazuya had sidled in, pointing in shock as if he'd had no idea Kazuya was going to be here) it had been familiar but not the same.
Sawamura was taller, his jaw sharper, his feet even more firmly planted. His eyes were bright and sure. He was leagues beyond that incredible person that Kazuya had left behind.
Kazuya's inner alpha, which he always tried to bury as deeply as possible, had sat up straight, and turned its sharp hunter's nose in that direction.
"I know our battery is more important than anything," Sawamura tells him earnestly, pulling Kazuya by the hand. "Of course it is! This Sawamura Eijun is the new ace of Meiji University, and together you and I will take the top! So I understand if you are nervous. But despite what people say, our natures do not control us! Alphas and omegas can most certainly be friends and work together even after sharing carnal relations!"
"Carnal relations?" Kazuya snickers.
"What's so funny about it?" Sawamura asks, his loud voice ringing Kazuya's ears and drawing looks on the street. Kazuya just shrugs, and Sawamura continues pulling him in the direction of his dorm, his hand dry and tight on Kazuya's wrist, strong fingers digging into the strip of scent blocking tape there.
"I didn't want to say anything because you've never seemed interested in that stuff," Sawamura says, when they get to the elevator. "Like, you don't really come out with us on weekends even though it's the off-season, and it seems like you'd rather die of old age than court anyone."
In the elevator, Sawamura adds, "And you wear blockers all the time, even when you don't have to."
Kazuya practiced and played with Meiji, he researched the other Big 6 teams, and he watched the majors to get a lay of the land for the draft and any offers to come. He was here to play and to win. That was what he wanted out of his life.
When the guys on the team invited him out, he usually refused, unless it was Tetsu-san.
When the guys on the team invited Sawamura out, Sawamura always laughed boisterously and went along.
Once, just once, Kazuya went with all of them. Off the field, they weren't players, and didn't have to wear scent blockers. Kazuya wore his tape anyway, as usual, and he was gently heckled for it, also as usual, but they gave it up as their comments trickled off his back. Sawamura kept looking at him, and whenever he caught Kazuya glancing his way, only nodded furiously, like this was how it was supposed to be.
Sawamura was one of the only omegas in the group, and the fresh, light woodiness of his smell caught Kazuya's nose immediately. Tetsu-san was another, his scent profile dark and sweet, familiar and comforting but intense, like honeyed cocoa. Their entire party was a riot of smells, a gathering of athletic men, and Kazuya stood among them, blending together, yet still apart.
"I wear them because alpha scents can be overpowering," Kazuya says, kicking off his shoes in Sawamura's tiny entryway. And a few other reasons, he doesn't say. "Are you sure about this? Do you even know what I smell like?"
"Of course I know, it sometimes leaks out," Sawamura says, trotting through the tiny studio to shove the kotatsu to the side. "And anyway, at Seidou we used to hang out in your room all the time! I think I've read manga in your bed."
This makes Kazuya's heart beat faster. Somehow, he'd forgotten.
Sawamura throws open the closet and starts pulling out his futon. "But even if I didn't know, that's why we're here, isn't it? To see… what kind of chemistry we have."
He peeks back at Kazuya over his shoulder, cheeks red again, and it's a sight that does things to Kazuya's stomach, makes his guts twist and turn with tightly-leashed need. He stalks forward silently and takes the other end of the futon, helping Sawamura lay it out.
When it's arranged to Sawamura's satisfaction, they both stay standing, looking at each other.
Sawamura's mouth goes tighter, and tighter, until Kazuya steps closer and says, "What is it?"
"Are you sure?" Sawamura blurts. "I just thought you completely weren't interested in me, or any omega. Maybe Leader, if anyone."
"Tetsu-san's a friend," Kazuya says.
"So am I, aren't I?" Sawamura asks.
Kazuya takes Sawamura's left hand, cradles it in a way familiar to both of them, turning it so he can assess its condition. Then he draws that hand up to his own neck, to the edge of his jaw and the edge of his scent-blocking tape.
Sawamura's breath hitches and his eyes go sharp. Gently, he peels off the first strip of Kazuya's tape and lets it flutter to the ground, and runs his fingers along the newly exposed line of skin.
"Well?" Kazuya asks. It tingles where Sawamura is touching.
Sawamura inhales and leans in. He still doesn't say anything, but his other hand comes up and pulls at the tape on the other side. He runs his palms down both sides of Kazuya's neck in a way that makes him shiver, then ducks his nose in against Kazuya's skin.
"You smell… good," is all he says.
"Come here then," Kazuya says.
"I am here," Sawamura says, muffled against Kazuya's neck.
Kazuya tears the other strips of tape off his wrists, and then grabs the back of Sawamura's neck to smash him closer, rubbing a healthy coating of scent on him. He pulls him a little away so they can see each others' faces. From so close, Sawamura smells incredible, somehow more complex, more lush than before.
"Hi there, Miyuki Kazuya," Sawamura says, looking bright and a little giddy. "Have you kissed people before?"
"Not many," Kazuya says, and tilts his head until he captures Sawamura's lips.
Sawamura kisses back more deeply than Kazuya had expected. His hands grip at Kazuya's shoulders, leaving Kazuya free to wrap his arms around Sawamura's torso, drawing their bodies together.
"Ohh," Sawamura whines into his mouth, the kiss going sloppy and open. Kazuya realizes they are both trying to both smell and taste each other at the same time. He pants harshly as he gives a final lick into Sawamura's mouth, but before he can fully pull away Sawamura bites his lip. Kazuya's hands spasm against his back.
"Mmm," Sawamura hums, sucking languidly on Kazuya's bottom lip.
"Sa— nnn, Sawamura," he says. He pushes back on Sawamura's shoulders, then down, putting a little force into it until Sawamura stumbles back onto the futon behind them. He looks at Kazuya with wide eyes and a red mouth, and then sinks slowly down onto his knees.
Fuck, Kazuya thinks, looking down at Sawamura's face, and then gets on his knees too, joining him on the futon. "Hey," he says. "What are we doing here? How far exactly do you want to go? If all you're looking for is a heat partner, call me when it's time and I'll do it."
"Ugh," Sawamura says, immediately offended. "Miyuki Kazuya, this is how much of an idiot you are. Do you want our first and maybe only time together to be during heat? If you leave it until that precious time, it can turn out all kinds of strange ways, let me tell you! Maybe you don't like the same kinds of things! Maybe you don't remember half of what happened afterward because you're too horny to — nevermind!"
Kazuya feels his smile go tight, tucking those details into the back of his mind for later review. Is he talking about Chris? Or Wakana? Or someone else, who Kazuya doesn't know and never wants to meet?
"You should know as much as possible about your compatibility beforehand, is what I'm saying!" Sawamura shakes his finger in front of Kazuya's face. "So we should try it out here first, do whatever we want to do, and then I'll decide afterward."
"So you're interviewing me," Kazuya summarizes.
"Inter—" Sawamura stutters, appalled. "No! Whatever happens, this is an experience I will cherish!"
"It's either an interview or a challenge," Kazuya says, pulling off his hoodie, and then the t-shirt underneath. "Admit it. You're looking for the best, and you're asking me to prove that it's me."
Sawamura was a great dancer and an insatiable flirt. Kazuya had watched from the table as he chatted with a tall, square-shouldered alpha at the blue-lit bar, as they danced together, as that alpha pressed his nose to Sawamura's jaw and Sawamura pulled him closer, head thrown back.
"Does it bother you to watch him?" Tetsu-san asked from beside him. "He does this every time. Some people are like that, you know."
The knowledge had burned in him, but all Kazuya had said was, "As far as I'm concerned, he can do whatever and whoever he wants, as long as it's not going to come back and bite us in a game. Beyond that, it's not really any of my business."
Those were the words that came out of his mouth, but his eyes had followed Sawamura until he left the club, chattering charmingly, the alpha's arm around his waist. He was sure Tetsu-san had noticed, but he had the grace not to say anything.
When Kazuya had next seen Sawamura after their rest day, he'd smiled enthusiastically and demanded that Kazuya work with him in the bullpen, now, immediately. He'd had a set of faint pink marks in the side of his neck that kept grabbing Kazuya's attention, putting his hackles up no matter how he tried to breathe through it.
By the next day, the marks had faded away to nothing, but they still lingered in his head.
Kazuya can't keep his hands off Sawamura.
It's like removing his blockers had unleashed a flood of latent energy, like the mix of their two scents had coalesced into a charged lightning storm, which permeated the air and ran boiling under his skin. The only place to release it is through Sawamura's body.
What does he want, Kazuya wonders, pressing Sawamura's biceps hard into the futon as he slides their groins together. What should I give him?
Under him, Sawamura shudders, bucking against Kazuya's grip. It's like he's trying to run away, and Kazuya instinctively drops his full weight onto his body to trap him in place.
"Yesss," Sawamura hisses. And then, "Oh, oh it's like you—" Sawamura raises his nose to Kazuya's neck, inhaling, and then licks a wide, hot stripe down the side of it. "—it's like you have an aftertaste, I've never smelled something like…"
Kazuya's heart feels like it's beating in his head instead of his chest, everything thrumming too-fast. There is no room for thinking anymore — he has to capture Sawamura's attention. Before he realizes it, he's sat up on Sawamura's thighs and his hands are working down at the button of his jeans. Sawamura arches under him and reaches his hands down too, getting in his way.
They race to expose themselves, and each other. Kazuya finds himself tossing his clothes all over the place: over the kotatsu, into the closet, the farthest corner. The better to leave traces of himself here, in Sawamura's den.
Sawamura grabs excitedly at one of Kazuya's hands, dragging it immediately to his ass. "Are you going to fuck me?"
"Yeah," Kazuya says breathlessly, "I'm gonna fuck you." He hardly believes it as the words come out his mouth, and yet knows without a shadow of a doubt that it's the truth.
Sawamura turns over instantly, wriggling his butt. Shocked, Kazuya grabs him by the waist and flips him back how he'd started, onto his back, leaving Sawamura gaping up at him.
"I'll decide how," Kazuya says, and then tries to hide his sudden nerves by burying his face against Sawamura's soft stomach, breathing the smell of him. He reaches lower, pulling apart Sawamura's thighs, lifting them so he can feel at the smooth skin between.
"Yes, ahhh," Sawamura moans. He reaches a hand down to twist in Kazuya's hair, and Kazuya gets a fresh whiff of scent from the gland at his wrist, a scent so rich that his cock jumps and he groans entirely against his own will.
Sawamura's hand forces him lower, and he goes with it. He sighs against Sawamura's cock, tasting it, mouthing at his sack, and reaches farther down with his hand. He rubs his thumb against Sawamura's hole, dipping inside and pulling, feeling how slick it already is. This is a dream, he's dreaming.
"Oh— mmm. I'm flexible, you know," Sawamura says, bracing one of his heels against Kazuya's back. "Please have your way with me!"
Fuck. What the fuck. Kazuya grips at his hip and says, "You're going to get yourself in trouble someday."
He had always believed he was satisfied with exactly the way things are. That it's fine if the closest Kazuya gets to Sawamura is catching his pitches and leading his feelings on the field. That's the perfect distance, closer than most people, as close as two people like them can be. It's baseball, the most real part of both their lives.
It doesn't matter if Sawamura finds someone else to take care of him during the heat season, to tear him apart and satisfy his cravings through that single, intense window. Kazuya will be taking care of him here, on this green field that lasts nearly all year round.
Kazuya can't look away.
That powerful, unflinching gaze shines directly upon him like the sun, and Kazuya stares right back into it without blinking. His instincts roar through his ears — to crush Sawamura's defiance, to flip him over and force his face into the dirt, sink teeth into the back of his neck — but he knows defiance isn't all of what Sawamura is showing him. It's something deeper, more passionate, brighter, more. It's something that Kazuya wants for himself.
Kazuya holds that golden gaze as he presses Sawamura's thigh up and open, daring him to look away. He lines himself up, his fingers wet with slick and spit, and pushes inside in one smooth stroke.
"A-ahhh," Sawamura gasps, his chin tilting up reflexively as his body shivers. Kazuya fists a hand in his hair to keep their eyes connected.
"Look at me," he whispers, leaning in close.
Sawamura pants hard, one of his hands coming up to grip at Kazuya's wrist, but his eyes stay fixed exactly where Kazuya wants them, directly on him.
His first thrusts make Sawamura cry out, his eyes flutter. He has to keep pulling Sawamura's hair to help him remember to keep his eyes open, but it's hard for Kazuya too. Sawamura feels— incredible.
He dips closer, watching the flush work its way into Sawamura's cheeks as his lower body accepts what Kazuya is giving him. Closer, until their mouths are in kissing distance. Kazuya's harsh breaths mingle with Sawamura's cut-off words and groans, their bodies moving together harder, hotter, harder—
Kazuya's teeth ache, he wants Sawamura so badly. His eyes slip, tracking Sawamura's open mouth, the lift of his jaw, his exposed neck. Kazuya clenches his jaw hard, trying to hold it back and keep a steady rhythm.
"No, please," Sawamura whines. His thumb pulls at Kazuya's mouth, catching his teeth, he tries to kiss at him.
It's too much. Kazuya opens his mouth and snaps, bites at Sawamura's lips, first the bottom, then the top, thrilling at each of Sawamura's breathless jolts and the way his body tightens around him, at the hands that come up to hold Kazuya closer.
Their eyes meet again, point-blank, and Kazuya thrills in it, this crazy omega who won't hesitate to provoke him, to dare him to do his worst even as deeply entwined as they are.
He licks across Sawamura's cheek and bites at the edge of his face, teeth closing tight.
"Oh—" Sawamura shouts, then gasps as Kazuya shakes with his teeth. He thrashes around and Kazuya has to pin him hard, with tight hands in his hair and against his shoulder, with the weight of his body and the deep angle of the way they're joined. Sawamura's slick hole clenches around him, making it worse, excruciatingly pleasurable. His legs tighten around Kazuya's waist, cock jumping and twitching against Kazuya's stomach.
Kazuya holds on, can only hold on, teeth still closed on the side of Sawamura's jaw. He can't bring himself to release his bite, couldn't let go if he wanted to. In a moment of frantic lucidity, he's thankful that he hadn't gone for the dangerous stretch of Sawamura's neck instead.
"M— Miyuki—" Sawamura is moaning by his ear, and then abruptly convulses and comes underneath him with a shout.
Kazuya breathes through his teeth, nearly whimpering, and fucks into him as best he can, trying to ride the pulse of Sawamura's body and his orgasm. It's harder than it seems, and eventually he regains the sanity to release his bite so he can pin Sawamura more powerfully with his hands — but Sawamura just keeps groaning, louder and louder the harder Kazuya fucks him, his body so wet and receptive and open that Kazuya can't take it anymore, just buries himself deeply and lets go.
This is not going to be enough.
"You…" Sawamura starts, a long while later. He touches Kazuya's hair softly, as if there's a chance of it running away, and says, "You might need to work on your stamina."
Kazuya explodes into laughter.
"Full points on everything else!" Sawamura says quickly, rolling closer to pat him comfortingly on the shoulder. "But stamina is important for a heat, you know!"
"Not an interview, my ass," Kazuya wheezes.
There is no official practice during the off-season, but many of them come in for the weight rooms, batting areas, or conditioning. The next evening, Kazuya walks in to a heated conversation that Sawamura is in the center of.
"—kind of an asshole jerk marks an omega's face like this?"
"This was a hookup? What the fuck…"
"You swear he didn't hit you? He wasn't trying to intimidate you?"
"Point us at 'im right now Sawamura, I swear!"
"Argh, shut up all of you!" comes Sawamura's explosive voice. "It was a hot and consensual experience and I would do it again right now if it didn't make all of you like this!"
Kazuya turns the locker room corner with dread. "What the hell is…"
It hadn't been any color at all when Sawamura had turned him out that evening, maybe a little pink, but now it's a deep gray-purple oval splashed right across the edge of Sawamura's jaw and soft cheek. The bruise is small, but looks ugly, even violent, the way it cuts across his face. Kazuya's stomach immediately drops, heavy with a churning horror at himself.
Sawamura is surrounded by a handful of guys from the baseball team, including the vice-captain. Even a couple of strangers from other teams are looking over their shoulders at the hubbub, two of them muttering to each other.
"Do you have any idea how serious an alpha has to be to make a mark this dark?" one of them is hissing to Sawamura.
"Oi, Miyuki, look what some asshole did to Sawamura's face," Akada bites out, clearly expecting Kazuya to share the same protective anger as the rest of them. And, to be honest, he does.
"Oh, Miyuki Kazuya!" Sawamura says, brightening at the sight of him. "Will you tell these losers that I can handle myself?"
Kazuya strides forward, cutting through the group, and grabs Sawamura by the shoulder, pulling him toward a more private area in the back. No one intercedes or looks surprised at all, except maybe Sawamura himself — the rest of the team all recognize that Sawamura is his pitcher, which itself adds something dark, thrilling, and shameful to the riot of emotions inside him.
"Where the heck are you dragging me now," Sawamura says, pulling him to a halt before they reach the private changing rooms. "It only looks bad, alright? You know."
Kazuya winds his arm over Sawamura's neck and shoulders, needing to feel him, and to create as much of a screen between them and the rest of the locker room as he can. Water from Sawamura's wet hair drips into the crease of his elbow — they must have caught him right as he came out of the showers.
"Does it hurt?" Kazuya asks tightly.
"No, I'm fine!" Sawamura insists. "It only hurts if I… if I press into it really hard," he continues, in a lower voice. He glances at Kazuya and presses a finger against the bruise to demonstrate. Something subtle changes in his scent as he does it, a flash of ripe earthiness, Kazuya so close to his bare neck that he picks it up easily. He swallows and glances away.
"I…" Kazuya starts. "I'm sorry."
"What?! No!" Sawamura shouts, right into his ear. "Not you too! You stop that right now!"
"Sawamura—"
"No! Don't you dare! I'm telling you, I was totally fine with it!"
"Sawamura, I'm serious!"
It comes out with a hint of deep alpha rumble, a sound that cuts through the buzz in the locker room even as slight as it is. Everything goes silent for a short beat, Sawamura staring in shock. Then the noise kicks up again, a little louder than before.
"Sorry," Kazuya says hastily.
"Don't apologize," Sawamura hisses. "For this or that!"
"I want you to actually hear what I'm saying, Sawamura," Kazuya says, squeezing his shoulders hard. "I'm sorry because I didn't mean to do it like that. I shouldn't have done something so… visible. Not without meaning to, or asking."
Sawamura glares, his eyes narrow.
Kazuya feels like wilting, what the hell. "This is common sense, you idiot. Marks like that are… a big deal. They should be intentional," he says. "I messed up."
"Fine, okay, sure," Sawamura says, glib, obviously not about to pay any attention to common sense. "That just means you need more practice, then. So that you know the difference between giving a bite and giving a proper mark."
"Um—" Kazuya starts. That's not exactly…
"I can teach you if you want," Sawamura offers, enthusiasm returning. "You can try it out on me."
All of the emotions in Kazuya's stomach feel like they instantly evaporate into heat.
Sawamura squints at him and then pats him on the shoulder. "See? That's how gracious and benevolent I am! Now get your alpha self off me and stop all that nonsense. I've told everyone here, I like that kinda thing." He shrugs Kazuya's arm off and holds Kazuya's gaze, firm. "And I'm not lying, I really liked it."
Kazuya has to clench his hands into fists to prevent himself doing something else stupid, like kiss him. "Fine," he says.
"That's right, it is fine! Good." Sawamura nods to himself, then takes a step back. "Um, anyway." He salutes Kazuya awkwardly, and walks back the way they'd come.
When Kazuya finally goes back to the others, where he'd dropped his bag, Sawamura has already left.
"Did you get a name?" Akada asks.
"Nope," Kazuya says.
"Damn it. If I ever find that guy I'm gonna beat him up before he gets within a hundred feet."
Kazuya breathes out harshly. "Yeah."
Kazuya's phone hardly ever rings. Tonight, it does, and it's Kuramochi.
"I can't even believe I'm saying this," he says, before Kazuya can even say hello.
"What?"
"You had sex with Sawamura? You marked Sawamura? On the face?"
Shit. "He told you?"
"Miyuki, I'm gonna tell you about one of the worst experiences of my life, and it's hearing from Sawamura's mouth about you and him in his bed—"
"Jesus, okay! What do you want me to say about it?"
"What do you think?! He sent me a picture too, complaining about everyone complaining about it."
Kazuya feels sick to his stomach again. He laughs to cover it up.
"You had better get your shit together for this, Miyuki, or I swear to god. I will murder you."
"Yeah yeah, I get it."
"I am not joking."
"I know, okay!"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"I know."
Traditionally, it's the alpha who makes the mark, but the omega is the one who makes it last. When practice starts up again two weeks later and Sawamura still has a mottled purple trace across his jaw, tunes from the rest of the team start to change.
"You really like this guy or something?" asks Akada. "I thought you said it was just a hookup."
"No, I never said that, you guys made that up," Sawamura protests. "He, um. He's a guy I know."
Eyes meet all around. Omegas have a special place on a team, and in most close social groups. The alphas and betas mesh around them, offering a little protection from those always seeking to touch.
Kazuya looks away. Sawamura started this, so he can deal with navigating the rest of the team the way he sees fit, for now. Whatever labels they are supposed to have, or not have — Kazuya doesn't care about that. This time it's Sawamura's call.
He thinks Tetsu-san is looking over at him.
Kazuya grabs his batting gear and heads out. In the outside air, he breathes deeply, trying to clear the gentle traces of Sawamura's scent from his nose.
Despite the turbulence, things return to normal. Spring training pushes it all from their minds, harsher than even Seidou's winter hell camps. Kazuya works with most of the pitchers, Sawamura included. He's thankful that he can only smell Sawamura in the short periods before the team gears up in the locker room, applying their blocking tape, and after they've headed out to shower and change. Kazuya keeps tape on all the time, as usual, now more than ever not wanting a whiff of it to escape.
Sawamura treats him much the same as he had before. He's clingy and bold, demanding Kazuya's attention constantly and shouting or pouting when he doesn't get it. There are only a few extra glances, or grins, or (now wildly suggestive) comments about Kazuya needing to learn a thing or two — and Sawamura being happy to give him extra lessons anytime!
Or maybe nothing about this is new, and Kazuya is only now seeing it.
Sawamura's words echo in the back of Kazuya's head.
"Our natures do not control us!"
"Alphas and omegas can most certainly be friends and work together even after… sharing…"
Kazuya had always believed that too.
Sawamura keeps him late in the bullpen one evening, first demanding more pitches, then demanding that Kazuya check his hands, then the laces on his glove, then asking him about which game tape he's going to watch later.
"Okay, what is this really about?" Kazuya eventually asks, impatient.
Sawamura squirms. "It's just, it's been ages for me."
"Ages… for what?" Kazuya squints.
"Ages since we did it, obviously!" Sawamura hisses. "And then it was camp, and camp was really busy, so busy I wanted to die, and I haven't gotten to…"
Kazuya smirks. It's the first expression that he can dredge up to cover his surprise. "Are you propositioning me again?"
"Well you're right here, aren't you?" Sawamura insists. "Always in front of me, I have needs you know. There's a reason I go out a lot. So I keep telling you to come get some kissing lessons but it's like you're ignoring me on purpose!"
"Hey now, I thought you had your options," Kazuya says. "You never gave me a final score or anything."
"You're the best one," Sawamura says plainly.
Kazuya pauses, then checks the open side of the bullpen for any other stragglers, but he thinks by this time everyone will be in the showers or gone. They had better be, and if they're not he doesn't really care anymore, because he is not waiting a second longer after hearing that.
He shucks his chest protector and presses a clearly pleased Sawamura against the back wall, their mouths catching together hungrily. Sawamura's hands immediately go to the back of Kazuya's practice uniform, untucking his shirt and working their way under all the layers to his back, where they dig into his skin like hot brands.
It would be better without any tape on, if Kazuya could inhale Sawamura's light resinous notes instead of just imagining them, but the simple smell of his body and sweat is enough for now.
Kazuya breaks away from the kiss, enjoying the way Sawamura's lips follow him. He touches the still-dark spot on the edge of his jaw where the mark continues to linger. "Why are you keeping this? Hasn't it caused you a lot of trouble?"
Sawamura scowls, clapping his fingers up over it. "It's my treasure. I don't get what the big deal is."
Kazuya's lips twist in a grin he can't help. "Aww, are you the traditional type? Want to walk around with a big bite on your neck all the time?"
"Shut up you bastard, that's not why!" Sawamura says, nearly headbutting him in protest. "If someone I like wants me that much, why wouldn't I want to keep it for myself?"
Sawamura is — wild. He always gives more than Kazuya could have possibly dreamed, and it leaves him elated every time.
He shoves Sawamura harder against the wall with his hips and body, finds himself gripping him by the hair with both hands and tilting his head back, exposing his neck. "You want another one then, Sawamura?" Kazuya asks, heart thundering in his chest. "Because you're right. I do want you that much, and you've been making this real hard for me."
"Good!" Sawamura snaps. "You deserve to have someone give you a hard time, you jerk!" He's bucking angrily under Kazuya's weight even while his hands cling tightly to Kazuya's back, laughably contradictory.
This is not the time or place for what Kazuya really wants to do, so instead he forces Sawamura around, pinning him face-first against the wall, twisting his arm into the small of his back with attentive care. Sawamura struggles a little, jerking and tense until Kazuya breathes messily into the back of his neck, at which point he immediately melts, going pliant.
Kazuya only kisses there at Sawamura's nape, but he does so for long, syrupy-stretched moments, soaking up the sound of Sawamura's breaths. Eventually he presses his teeth in, still with the utmost delicacy, careful to leave only the faintest of impressions in the skin.
"Miyuki Kazuya," Sawamura says, a soft exhale that is perhaps supposed to be a protest, but instead just sparks a desperate tremble in Kazuya's stomach.
I do want you, Kazuya admits to himself, and in the privacy of his own mind, it feels different. And I want to know what you want from me.