Archive of Our Own ^beta

*

It's a habit of his. Falling asleep on desks.

Lelouch doesn't react to Suzaku's hand gently shaking him. "Lelouch?" he murmurs.

Nothing.

Suzaku glances over his shoulder to the disgruntled, red-faced professor snatching her things, marching out. The rest of the classroom either wanders to their next school activity or peers to Lelouch in obvious, lustful confusion from the doorway, as another one of Lelouch's breathy-soft snores escapes his lips.

Pink, plump lips. Perfect for widening open and sucking on the length of Alpha-cock. The hungry, gurgling-wet noises. Some of them visualize it — Lelouch naked, moaning with abandonment, his purple eyes fluttering. He's helpless to the rough, jarring thrusts going deep in his mouth, his throat. Omega-slick, warm and glistening, drips from his hole. Two of Lelouch's fingers stuff in, widening himself open in anticipation for a hard, good breeding.

That's the assumption of all Omegas, no matter if born into nobility or common — even when they've all dutifully been on suppressants during this spring term.

Omegas will be scrutinized for the littlest fault. Blamed for their natural instincts. Preyed on. Sexualized.

It doesn't seem fair, Suzaku thinks.

He wants better for Lelouch. All of their friends do. They must do.

(According to his Britannian military records, when his sexual urges peaked in training, Suzaku has been deemed an Alpha. They wanted to expel him immediately — but thankfully, Lloyd and Cecil wouldn't have it. No one pilots the Lancelot like him.)

 He sits down next to Lelouch, finding himself oddly protective in this moment. "Wake up, Lelouch," Suzaku murmurs again, as the other boy stirs, Lelouch's nostrils flaring. "You fell asleep during the lesson."

Lelouch groans quietly, burrowing down in his arms. "Who cares…"

“You will later on when you see your grades.” Suzaku chuckles, his expression bright. "Kallen says you're not doing too hot in Fine Art. Get sleep at night like a normal person, Lulu.” He knows that Lelouch despises the overly affectionate nickname from Milly, and begrudgingly accepts it from Shirley and the other girls (not so much Rivalz), so Suzaku isn't surprised by the eye-roll.

“Shut up," Lelouch whispers, glancing up from the circle of his arms. “I don't take orders from you.”

There's no malice from his oldest friend. Suzaku looks over him fondly, as those violet-colored eyes blink sleepily. His fingers work on their own, plucking up a strand of silky-soft, black hair from Lelouch's eye and thumbing it away.

Milly, from the background, grins coyly as a few of the younger girls swoon at Lelouch and Suzaku's familiarity.

A collective echo of tittering.

She elbows Rivalz who appears half-astonished, half-amused.

*

"You know you can tell me anything… right?"

Lelouch pulls himself out of his thoughts of recruiting more followers for Zero. He doesn't move from leaning against the oak tree, watching as Rivalz avoids eye-contact and chucks aside a broken metal gear from his ride, using his wrench.

“Yes, of course.”

“Even if you think it might be embarrassing…”

He sighs, already bored of Rivalz's interrogation. ”You might as well say what's on your mind.”

Rivalz wipes off his forehead, looking to the other boy and frowning.

“Are you and Suzaku… …?”

“Friends?" Lelouch retorts. "Yes, and you know that. It doesn't matter that he's Japanese. He's—”

“No, no, not about that!" Dark red blooms onto Rivalz's cheeks. He waves his arms frantically. “I know Suzaku's a good guy. We all do. I'm saying… uhhhm, are you guys…?” He pauses, and Lelouch doesn't like the undercurrent of embarrassment. Or how Rivalz stares at him. It's nothing like a Beta does to an Omega, but rather — like someone withholding a juicy secret discovered.

Rivalz then silently hooks his forefinger into an O shape, and jerks his opposite forefinger towards it. Making an in-out-in gesture. At first, Lelouch remains baffled. Then it hits him. Like a flurry of tingling, unwelcomed heat between his legs.

“Is this honestly what you do on your free time? Perverted imaginings?”

“I'm not imagining anything," Rivalz argues. "You two are the ones all over each other. Don't shoot the messenger.”

“What do you mean by that?”

A low, aggravated whistle. The other boy groans out, "Wooooo boy, Lelouch…" and climbs back onto his feet. Rivalz pretend-salutes him, dragging his ride off the grass. “If I gotta explain it to you, then this is waaaaaay beyond what I can help…”

*

Out by the marble-white archway leading to the Science Building, Lelouch hurries to meet Suzaku. This is ridiculous!

He halts right in front of him, bending over and panting for air. Suzaku, not usually the one winded from running across campus, does the same also in front of Lelouch. Both of their gold-edged Academy uniforms rumpled. Their voices blurting out.

“So, Rivalz—”

“Milly just—”

Suzaku holds out a hand. “Wait, wait—what did he say?”

“That, well—you and I were—”

Lelouch cuts himself off, his cheeks turning pink but appearing frustrated and angry.

“Together?” Suzaku says, wincing up. The other boy is about to ask — how in the green holy hell — but Suzaku adds, not fuming as Lelouch was, “Milly was straightforward about it. Asked how long we were prepared to hide it from the student body.”

“That little—”

“—and here I thought pranksters week was last month!”  

Laughter creeps into Suzaku's voice, and that's when Lelouch gapes outright. "Suzaku, you're a genius." He ignores the adorably perplexed look. “If a show is what they desire," Lelouch drawls, narrowing his eyes. "Who are we to disappoint?”

“What are you planning?"

He clasps Suzaku's shoulder, leading him. "Just trust me."

There's yellowed sunlight gleaming in Suzaku's brown locks, and in the rims of his glass-brilliant, green eyes.

"Always," Suzaku confesses, so softhearted and sincere. Facing him. Bringing in a muddle of heightened scents and emotions., and that flutter inside Lelouch. He may be the only male Omega in the vicinity, but he has more control than that. He has to.

*

Here's the plan:

Get close.

Whenever he and Suzaku brush past each other, or stand in each other's proximity, or do anything remotely in a friendly manner — their fellow classmates, including the Student Council, get antsy. One or two members of the Academy's faculty.

It's so easy to manipulate them. It almost takes the fun of it for Lelouch.

Almost.

*

In homeroom, Suzaku purposely leaves the top three buttons undone on his white uniform-shirt. He shucks off his gakuran. “Do you not know how to get dressed on your own?” Lelouch grumbles, reaching to tug him in, making Suzaku stumble.

Two or three of the male students peek curiously over their textbooks. Nina eeps, mortified, slapping her hands to her face.

Lelouch's hands quickly fasten the buttons. Suzaku lets his gaze roam to the bridge of Lelouch's nose and collar-bone. They're supposed to play it up. "Guess not," Suzaku answers Lelouch's observation, calm and good-natured. "Thanks, Lelouch."

“Don't mention it.”

Lelouch has ring and little finger dig impulsively into the white, finely stitched material. Suzaku's teeth worries over his bottom lip. As he dares to inch towards Lelouch, within the tiniest amount of personal space, Suzaku can hear the multiple, small cries of approval.

“We're gonna be late," Lelouch interrupts, stepping back. Just as he planned.

Everyone collectively groans.

*

It doesn't end there. Arms clasping, lingering touches against backs and waists… a dodgeball accidentally swerved for Lelouch on the bleachers, as the automated ball-machine errored as Lelouch calculated, and Suzaku outran the trajectory to block him… Suzaku, complaining about a knot in his shoulder, and Lelouch massaging it during their lunch break…

And, Suzaku, feeling more and more conflicted about playing this game…

*

They set a time for Suzaku to propose a date at the oceanside-pier. But, Lelouch doesn't show in afternoon classes.

He greets Sayoko at the entrance of the Clubhouse, and almost reels backwards. Suzaku wheezes out faintly, clutching over his nose. Heat. So much Omega-Heat. He's never smelled something so mouthwatering and horrific in his whole life.

"I'm afraid the Master has taken ill quite suddenly," she explains, completely unaffected as a milder, practiced level of Beta.

"… Did he miss a dose of suppressants?"

"Yes."

Suzaku curses to himself, shaking his head. His own Alpha instincts wants to help, to help Lelouch get through this, to…

Fuck.

Sayoko invites him in, politely recommending a glass of water and to deliver it to Lelouch. Against his judgment, Suzaku listens. He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't. Within the darkness of Lelouch's bedroom, he can see the outline of his friend. Lelouch has been stripped down, thrashing against the pillows and flinching. His black, silky hair gleaming with sweat.

"Lelouch," Suzaku mumbles, trying to convince himself to not drop the cool water. He sets down the huge glass, trembling.

It's not just sweat on him — that Omega-slick leaks from under Lelouch, all over the bedsheets, giving off a musky, warm odor that hardens Suzaku up in his uniform-pants. Tears form in Lelouch's eyes, the magnificently violet irises shrunken against his blown pupils. Suzaku's jaw tenses. A person's warmth makes the tears go away, or so Nunnally told him once.

"I'm here, Lelouch."

"Su…zaku… …"

He's not good enough for him. Suzaku knows this, but pulls off his things carefully, slowly, touching over Lelouch's cheek. And, maybe Lelouch doesn't think he's worth comforting, but Suzaku knows he is. Lelouch is worth dying for. Maybe even living for.

"Don't worry," Suzaku tells him benevolently, offering a little, toothy smile.

*

Glass-brilliant, green eyes.

“Should I go slower?” Suzaku asked, setting his chin on Lelouch’s knee folded and pushed up in the air, and wiggling his second lubricated finger to another knuckle and it was the weirdest and best feeling at the same time. Lelouch's mouth nipped over Suzaku's palm, urging him to go fast, fast, and he couldn't control it, couldn't, couldn't — Suzaku's hips rocking up, and the insides of Lelouch's long, pale legs cradled him, tightening — a higher pitch of a whine — Alpha, Alpha! Alpha! Alpha! —

Lelouch cautiously stretches out, ignoring Suzaku's pensively concerned expression, working out the twitches of his muscles.

His window glimmers in starlight and moon. He's sore. Slick. A gush of Omega-fluid mingled with Suzaku's hot, thickened cum empties out of Lelouch's hole. It doesn't stop. Lelouch gasps raggedly, not fighting through the sensation, pushing out.

As soon as it's over, he wraps himself with a less filthy bedsheet, turning away to hunch.

"You feel okay?" Suzaku asks, keeping his distance.

"Mm."

"Are you mad?"

"No," Lelouch admits flatly. He glances over his shoulder, huffing.

"I guess… the prank is over…"

"We're more likely to be the victims of it," Lelouch's tone doesn't waver, "if you managed to impregnate me." Suzaku chokes out behind him, flustered and protesting, and somehow, that only makes Lelouch's mouth quirk into a thin smirk.

Teasing him is better than panicking.

It's habit.

*