Work Text:
It smells good; that’s the first thing Isagi notices.
She doesn’t sleep so well, these days. The World Cup is upon them, right around the corner, inexorably imminent, and it’s daunting and exciting both, but even right now it trembles in her very fingertips. Training at night perhaps isn’t particularly prudent, but she’s been doing it ever since the first selection, and by now, it’s become a part of her, especially when she’s so keyed up that sleep eludes her. Isn’t it something how it has all come full circle like this? How she’s staying up late training once more, like she used to in the very beginning of it all? Thinking back, she doesn’t think she recognizes herself anymore, but clearly, it still lingers.
And right here, right now, in the locker rooms so late that Isagi nearly feels like she’s sleepwalking, it smells good. Floral, refined, like someone sprayed some sort of perfume around (which is not unheard of, but they don’t really have perfume in Blue Lock usually), but it’s much too strong for that, and…
There’s movement in the corner. A whiny groan that rushes through Isagi’s body whole, like she just touched a live wire. That settles firmly in her ribcage, making blood throb thick and fast.
She catches herself. It’s no good for an alpha to be meat-headed and instinct-ruled, after all; especially when it comes to football. Especially when said alpha is Isagi Ichiyo.
In the corner, there’s Reo. Isagi’s eyes slowly get used to the dark—aided by her other senses, but mostly smell right now—and there’s Reo in the corner of the locker room, curled up into a shivering ball. Smelling… smelling like the best, most exquisite, most delicious thing in the entire universe, which is really making it rather hard to think. But Isagi isn’t like other alphas.
“Are you in pre-heat?” she says, aghast and appalled and much too interested, too, for her own good and also Reo’s. It can’t be—it can’t be full on heat. That doesn’t happen that quickly, right?
There’s that thing about Reo. She’s beautiful—tall for an omega, too, taller than Isagi is—and, more importantly, really good at football. There’s potential, so much of it—and in a way, it feels like looking into a mirror; all backwards, all the other way around, but other than that the very same—that it’s overflowing at the seams, and it’s just all so… wasted.
These days, Reo is detached and closed off with eyes that don’t really catch the light anymore. She’s still training—at a rapid pace that Isagi cannot help but admire—but it’s… there’s no passion in it anymore, not since Nagi left, not since Nagi got locked off.
And that’s precisely the problem, isn’t it? Nagi.
Isagi values Nagi, too. Isagi admires Nagi, too. Isagi wants to beat Nagi, but she’s likely the only one out of the two of them with that desire (which is also a problem! Desires like that are the one reason they are here, after all!). Isagi wishes Nagi was still here, because Nagi—the Nagi she could be, that is, if there was finally fire moving her soul—would be a great asset in the upcoming battles, in the upcoming war. And she likes Nagi, too, a normal amount.
But Reo—Reo holds on with claws and teeth. These days, Reo is detached and closed off and grim, and doesn’t talk to any of them, anymore. And she—she doesn’t have to, but they understand each other, don’t they? They don’t like each other, necessarily—at least Isagi is pretty sure Reo still hasn’t forgiven her for the imagined slight of taking Nagi away from her, which for the record was not what Isagi had been trying to do, or has ever wanted to do—but there’s some sort of camaraderie, is there not? They understand each other, they should understand each other, but instead, Reo is… like this.
Instead, right now, Reo is curled up in the corner of the locker room in the middle of the night, panting and sweating, emitting deep, luxurious pheromones. Instead, right now, Reo is in pre-heat so luscious that it makes Isagi’s teeth ache.
A jolt in her gut shakes her out of it.
“Hey, Reo!” she calls out, again, jogging over; uncaring that she, herself, is still soaked in sweat. What is this girl doing…! And right before the World Cup, too…!
What is she thinking…?!
Right now, apparently not much. Reo’s pupils are entirely blown out—black swallowing up lovely amethyst, tears beading at the corners of her eyes, her lashes dewy with it—when she looks up at Isagi, chest heaving—with those budding, small breasts that Isagi should find it easier to look away from, that it would be easier to look away from if Reo took care of herself and took her stupid suppressants—mouth parted dumbly.
“Huh…?” she says, and then, horribly, “Nagi…?”
Isagi frowns. She’s keyed up from training, anxious about the World Cup, tense under the pressure, annoyed at Reo’s antics, and now…!
“I’m not Nagi, Nagi is gone,” she spits. “Where are your suppressants?”
Reo’s brow furrows. It’s instantaneous, the way her body language shifts; the way she keys up, the way her gaze clears just a little, the way she pushes herself up into the corner like she’s trying to make herself look larger. “Isagi,” she says, voice thick in a way that must hurt in her throat. “You—”
“Look, I don’t care about your beef with me. Where are your suppressants?”
Reo falls quiet again, but she’s still panting so much that it doesn’t really feel like a victory. She squeezes her eyes shut. Isagi’s heart is hammering against her sternum, heavily, pumping her veins full of hot blood. Pumping her full everywhere of hot blood. Stupid alpha brain. Stupid alpha instincts. Ah, but how can Reo be so careless, anyway, this place is fucking packed with alphas… If anyone else were to see her like this, then…
No. No, Isagi can’t let that happen. She absolutely, completely cannot let that happen. Reo is—
(Her teeth hurt in her mouth.)
“I don’t know,” Reo manages, finally. A small whine spills out of her, then a growl. Isagi is hot, hot, hot all over. “I don’t—it’s too, too late, anyway. I’ll need—”
An injection instead of the pills, Isagi’s brain says.
But her body… Well.
“Isagi,” Reo says, higher-pitched than before. Isagi hadn’t even noticed how far she’d been leaning in, how far she’d been cornering Reo, pressing her right there, bodily into the corner, framing her with slick palms pressed into the walls. And Reo is taller than Isagi, yes, but Isagi is still an alpha.
Isagi is an alpha. Reo is an omega—one almost in heat, for that matter—and Isagi is an alpha.
Reo’s eyes are wide again now, eyebrows shooting up on her forehead. The pieces of hair framing her face stick to it with sweat, and her hair is uncurled and in a ponytail and not the elaborate way she usually—usually as in when Nagi’s there—styles it off the field, and she’s still beautiful.
“Isagi!”
Right. Right, right, right.
Reo is so close now. Isagi has leaned in so close. She’s panting, too, she realizes now.
“Relax,” she manages to say out loud, voice husky with… something. This pull. It’s really Reo’s fault, anyway. “I’m right here, right? You don’t—you don’t need… I mean, with me, you could…”
Reo blinks. Swallows audibly, her throat—her frail-looking, marble-pale throat—bobbing with it. Blinks again. Her expression softens for a moment before her brows crinkle again, and it’s stealing all air out of Isagi’s lungs until she is well and truly breathless. Reo’s nose twitches. She can smell Isagi, too. Scent patches are useless during hard training, and even the spray must have worn off by now; which is why usually, Isagi would go to shower immediately and then douse herself in the stuff. Use a scent patch. It’s no good to be distracted by each other’s pheromones here, after all; they have things to do. Isagi has things to do.
And Reo can smell her, too, and she likes it. Isagi can… Isagi can tell.
“You’re terrible,” Reo says, through her teeth. There’s a hiccup in her voice that feels like electricity straight into Isagi’s system. “What, are you pitying me? I don’t—I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
“Not even Nagi?” slips out of Isagi with a small, dry laugh before she can think better of it, before she can bite it back, chew on it and swallow it back down into nothingness where it belongs.
Reo’s gaze hardens further. She pushes her palm into the wall until her knuckles go white, then tries to stand up, gasping and hissing, chest heaving so very much. God, her jersey is so soaked Isagi can see the skin-tight bodysuit underneath with crystal-clarity. God, Reo’s knees are wobbling under her.
“Sorry!” Isagi exclaims, lifting her hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry!”
It does make Reo pause. Reo does pause, just like this, sweaty and cornered and the sweetest thing in the whole entire universe right here, right now. Reo smells her, Reo can smell her, and she likes it, because she pauses. Because she hasn’t actually bolted yet. Because Isagi is different from other alphas, she can’t—doesn’t want to—just overpower any omega physically, and Reo is bigger than her, and still, she remains right here.
“It’s not pity,” Isagi adds, trying to keep her voice soft, but a bit of petulance sneaks into it, anyway. Reo’s bottom lip turns pale when she pinches it between pearly teeth, her nostrils flaring. Isagi is buzzing all over. “I mean it. Reo. Reo, look at me. I mean it.”
Reo crumples against her. She’s heavy—Isagi is crouching, and she didn’t expect the sudden weight, so she yelps, shifts, slaps her hands into the wall to keep them both from toppling over—and yet every inch of Isagi is singing. Reo’s hand claws into Isagi’s jersey, trembling, yanks, and she’s so warm, fuck, she’s so warm, it’s like she’s boiling. Her scent makes Isagi’s head spin. It’s tinged by now, flowery-sweet and wet.
Reo is wet.
“Just—” Reo gasps. “I don’t like you, just—”
Isagi rolls her eyes. “Oh my god,” she mutters, “we’re not getting married, calm down.”
And despite everything, despite how Isagi can tell it makes Reo bristle, Reo does. She slumps further against Isagi’s body, into Isagi’s arms, breathing deep and heavy and desperate. Isagi shifts, gets her legs underneath herself, scoots around, tips Reo over. Like this, intertwined, their knees knock; it’s not really comfortable, but it’ll do.
She cups the back of Reo’s head, pushes Reo into the side of her neck.
“You!” Reo exclaims, bristling again. “You…! What do you think you’re doing…!”
But Isagi doesn’t let up. In this state, Reo’s squirming and thrashing isn’t particularly useful—not to mention that in terms of physical strength, they are likely pretty evenly matched for the most part—and the thing is that Reo doesn’t want to leave either, does she, so Isagi holds firm. One hand on the back of Reo’s head, the other on Reo’s hip, wrapped tight around her waist. Up close, Reo smells incredible. Isagi doesn’t think she’s ever been this close to an omega approaching heat. It’s… well, it’s inconvenient, and… Reo should have used her suppressants, but… well, she can’t help being happy. Just a little. It’s instinct, anyway.
Slowly but surely, Reo settles down. A full-body shiver rushes through her, and she claws into Isagi tighter, even as she complains under her breath, so quietly Isagi can’t make out the words at all.
Slowly but surely, Reo settles down, buries her face at the side of Isagi’s neck, at last. Isagi tips her head back until it knocks into the locker room wall. Ah, shit, they should shower and sleep. They need their rest, and their training, and…
Isagi moans, jolting so hard she almost bucks Reo off her.
“Ah!” she gasps. There’s—ah, there’s Reo’s tongue at Isagi’s scent gland. Raspy, just a little bit, like omega tongues tend to be. Reo opens her mouth and sucks, and Isagi swears. “Re—Reo…”
Reo grits her teeth, swallows, and because she’s right there—on top of Isagi!—Isagi hears all of it, shivers underneath it. It’s too hot, too hot, too hot in here. She’s going to develop a fever. Reo inches closer, closer, closer still, and Isagi is going to develop a fever.
“Shut up,” Reo spits. “You—you offered! So… so you gotta be, ah, use—useful.”
Now Isagi bristles, too. Reo’s voice is all pouty and all breathy and all needy, but she still has so much attitude. Who does she think she is? First she goes around ignoring everyone, and now she’s going to talk to Isagi—who’s just trying to help, mind!—like this while practically humping her?
“I’m not,” Reo continues complaining, inhaling so deep Isagi can feel it everywhere, can feel it hardening between her legs, firmly by now. Jesus, she hadn’t even noticed that. “Not—not gonna let you fuck me. I’m not that easy!”
“Nobody asked you to!” Isagi hisses back.
But that’s the thing, isn’t it? The scent of an alpha and an orgasm—or multiple, really—preferably on an alpha knot: those are the things that, injection aside, would help Reo the best right now. And… and Reo needs to get her act together, after all, because they have the World Cup to win. There’s no time to think about Nagi! There’s no time to… to mope every goddamn day! Isagi is right here!
It spins around inside of Isagi’s body, around and around and around. Sits thick in her throat and in her chest and throbbing in her dick. Her palms are all sweaty with it.
And—and Reo keeps licking at her. At her scent gland, licking and licking, interspersed with little moans and sucks and twitches of her cute hips and pressing closer, closer, closer. Isagi feels like she’s melting into a puddle underneath it all, like she’ll die if she doesn’t eat Reo whole soon. Moans, squeezing Reo in her grip. Scoots her hand lower to brush over Reo’s ass, almost accidentally.
Reo yowls. Rolls her hips, presses closer, nudges her tongue against Isagi’s scent gland. God, her own must be swollen by now with how strongly she’s smelling. God, god, god.
“Don’t—” Reo gasps, and for a moment, Isagi thinks the next words are going to be touch me, resigning herself to being licked and humped until Reo comes, but Reo continues, “stop, don’t—”
Ah.
Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Reo says. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.
Isagi can’t help herself, she grabs at Reo more tightly. Reo’s hips rock forward, then keep doing those little humps that make every drop of Isagi’s blood boil. She’s so hard. She’s really so hard. Reo smells so good. She’s leaking slick through her bodysuit and her shorts, Isagi thinks, and her scent spikes even more when Isagi squeezes her ass.
“You’re gonna get scent drunk,” she manages, for some reason. Reo moans, whines, keeps licking at Isagi’s scent gland; slowly growing swollen and irritated, too.
It’s so nice, Reo’s scent. Isagi tilts her head to bury it in Reo’s hair, huffing when Reo makes a displeased noise as her mouth slips off Isagi’s scent gland momentarily before she manages to latch onto it again. Reo is irritating, these days—aloof, so far away, squandering her potential, throwing it away for an alpha that isn’t even here anymore—but it’s so nice, her scent; so calming, so alluring that Isagi finds herself helpless underneath it all. She’s never before been this close to an omega close to heat, after all. God, who could have known it would be this much?
The only thing she manages to do is try to inhale as deeply as possible, nudge her hips up against Reo’s and grope at Reo’s ass, Reo’s hips. Reo manages to find a rhythm somewhere along the way, it seems: grinding down on Isagi’s thigh, mouthing desperately at Isagi’s neck.
Completely scent drunk. Completely, totally, absolutely needy. Reo needs an alpha, and Isagi is right here.
Things like that float vaguely, hazily through Isagi’s mind—mouth pressed into Reo’s hair, smelling of sweat and pheromones, and Isagi presses closer, greedily; hips bucking up to meet Reo’s clumsily—until Reo tenses up like she’s being electrocuted, until Reo moans, hips twitching, pressing so close to Isagi she’s afraid for a moment her ribs will break under the pressure.
Coming. Reo is… coming.
Isagi is breathing almost as hard as Reo is, staring into the purple of Reo’s hair, vision blurring. Reo squirms. Isagi swallows hard, blood racing in her head.
“Reo—”
“Shut up!” Reo hisses, but it loses so much of its sharpness with the way she slurs, with the high-pitched, needy tone her voice has taken to. She lifts up onto her knees, squirming, pushing her shorts down. Eagerly, Isagi reaches out to help, and tears fabric in her wake. Oops. “You—you…!”
Dangerous.
It looks almost laughable—and like the hottest thing in the whole entire universe, too—however: Reo, face terribly red, chest heaving, reeking of slick. Reo, skin dewy with how sweaty she is. Reo, hair in disarray, brows furrowed, eyes sparkling, mouth wet. Reo, who moans when Isagi rips clothes all the way out of the way, Reo, who starts tearing at Isagi’s pants, too. Reo with the ripped bodysuit revealing her thighs, her hips, and then, at last, her pubic hair; glistening wildly even in the half dark. Isagi doesn’t get much of a look at her pussy before Reo rips her bodysuit open, too. Ah, they’re gonna need new ones. New practice jerseys, too, likely. Isagi isn’t sure if pheromones this strong will come out in the wash.
“Don’t you dare come inside!” Reo spits just as she sinks down on Isagi’s cock, and Isagi would laugh at the way Reo’s face immediately goes from annoyed to eager and pliant, moaning deeply, if she could. If the way Reo feels inside—slick and wet and pulsing and hot, hot, hot—didn’t drive her absolutely crazy, didn’t make her mind blow completely and utterly empty.
Reo’s teeth are small but sharp when they nibble at Isagi’s scent gland, not piercing skin, but Isagi shivers under it, anyway. If Reo were to bite her… well, then she couldn’t be blamed for biting back, and…
And anyway, she’s just helping!
She grabs at Reo’s hips, moves her up—Reo yelps—and then back down and shit, fuck, god, that feels incredible. Reo’s pussy is so good. Oh, god, Reo’s pussy is so good.
(A part of Isagi feels almost inclined to ask Reo if Nagi’s ever fucked her; if Nagi had been too lazy to do it properly; if Reo’d wanted her to, but she didn’t. If Reo has done this before, at all, with anyone, because Isagi hasn’t. But, well, Isagi does want to continue living, so she bites it back.)
It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time until Isagi comes; until she presses Reo’s hips tightly to her own, pushing up and inside as far as she will go, crushing bone against bone. Her knot pops into place firmly, and Reo whimpers, long and reedy, claws and claws and claws at the back of Isagi’s jersey, hips trembling, pussy twitching and fluttering so greedily.
“Isagi,” Reo gasps, breathless, whiny, “Isagi, Isagi, Isagi.”
She’ll be pissed off in a while again—might go back to the grim hiding away, though this time hopefully on suppressants; and hopefully taking a plan b pill too, oops, but it’ll be fine, right?—but right now, Isagi is floating in the haze of her pheromones, her pussy still spasming around her; right now, Isagi is going to enjoy this to the fullest. Right now, this is perfect, especially when Reo nuzzles into her throat again, inhaling her scent with a sigh of such relief like it’s the best thing she’s ever smelled, like it’s the only thing she ever wants to smell.
Hey, relaxation is an important part of training, too.