"...sorry. You should go home today." His shishou's breathing is faster, unusually distant instead of open and inviting like any other day. Ears flat to his head, holding a hand over his throat like his tie is choking him. "I'm not...right, right now."

"Shishou, you're sweating. Is it fever?"

Mob's fingers brush to Reigen's cheek and his ears flick up with a twitch, their fur standing out, shudders down his spine with heavier breaths. Movement below catches Mob's eye, lowering his gaze, and his breath tightens seeing his shishou's bulge twitch against his zipper.

It's not supposed to be like that when they're not touching oneanother.

When he tries to withdraw his hand, Reigen holds it to his cheek and leans into the touch, breathing in the scent from his wrist. Bigger fingers cross between his and make room for kisses across his palm.

"Don't let me hurt you. Use your powers and stop me. Blow me away. ...don't hate me, Mob."

His shishou draws his eyes open, and Mob's hand is yanked, and he's kissed. Adult tongue in his mouth.

His body startles to a jump, freezes for just a moment, but his shishou's taste and scent are filling his senses with heat. His legs feel less and less stable, digging his hands into the back of a gray suit to stay up.

Reigen pushes him to back up until his thighs bump into the couch. He trusts his shishou to guide him as he's pushed further, kissed down into the black seat. Their kiss breaks with Reigen kissing up his temple to his flicking ear, turning him over onto his stomach.

Hands under his chest. He squirms a little by the incessant licking of his ear until buttons pop open, startled to alert as Reigen yanks his gakuran off his shoulders and around his arms. He lets his deshi's ears go to bury his mouth around the exposed neck with a half-muffled growl.

"Mob...Mob, you smell so good, made for me..."

"S-Shishou, you said...nmh, y-you shouldn't, ah, touch there..."

His breathing is thin, but heavy, growing dizzy with the scent of pheromones flooding off his shishou. Pheromones of someone that wants to mate him, mark him, claim possession over him. He doesn't need to see behind to be aware of his shishou's arousal.

His body reacts on its own, keening, exposing his frail neck further for Reigen's mouth. There's just the lightest of bites –harder before he withdraws his teeth, licks the marks, restrains. Doesn't puncture. The pull and push of it is driving Mob too far, tears in his eyes, squirming his thighs between his shishou's while trying to offer his neck up.

Mob brushes his fingers to his nape, the flushed and licked wet skin, peeking over his shoulder with big, dewy, hooded eyes.

"...please leave a mark we can't hide."

His shishou's eyes are wild, lit aflame with something feral, breathing him in. Mob yelps and his tears roll over as Reigen finally digs his teeth into the back of his neck, harder, harder – like a barrier, the skin punctures, and both of them moan with the give and take.

Reigen's body ruts into his squirming one, lapping his tongue over the skin that's held in his fangs to soothe the pain of it. Mob's panting is thin through the shock sparking through his body, pooling in his stomach, running as saliva off his lips.

His hands move like trying to crawl away, and Reigen pins them by taking both into one of his. Mob's ears twitch listening to his shishou's belt come undone, followed by the zipper and the button. His own pants don't get the same treatment – he squeaks as the back of them gets pulled over the mound of his butt.

What meets his bare skin is fabric –the fabric of his shishou's underwear. The flesh on the other side of it is so hard and hot his hips squirm. Reigen ruts into the cleft of his butt, and he keens and whines to lure him deeper, between his thighs, against the length of his body.

His neck stings, but there's a heat, something hotter than he's felt yet. Melting in his stomach and making his body boneless.

Reigen groans and snarls louder the faster he thrusts into Mob's body, and Mob's hands squirm in his to squeeze onto him. His bite digs deeper as his hips rock and push into Mob's, and Mob's face presses into the couch, feeling rough pumps, spilling into slick boxers. His eyes snap shut as he does the same in his briefs –shaking against the couch seat while feeling the heat of his shishou's come melt against his skin, the flushed and exposed flesh of his butt and twitching rim.

Reigen's teeth are bloody and drool-slick when he draws his mouth off Mob, slobbering tired apologies into his shoulder with hungry kisses, heavy knot pressing into Mob's ass and between their bodies for relief.

Mob would appreciate the words if he could make them out. He's busy on 7th heaven, his insides squeezing so hard it feels dizzying. He came without shishou touching –without even being inside.

Just feeling his knot press into him like this makes him feel like he can't take anymore.

Reigen rests his body over his and laps the punctured glands between kisses, squeezing their crossed fingers together.

"...how're you feeling?"

"...good...hurts a little..."

Reigen kisses his neck again. It feels warm, soothing to his hurt flesh. "We'll put...something on as soon as I can, okay."

Bandaids won't be big enough to cover the punctures or the pressure-broken veins. They'll need an actual gauze around Mob's neck, too high to hide under his gakuran. Mob's family will know the moment he walks home. It will most likely leave an obvious marking scar.

Mob's tired, trembling fingers trace his nape for the sorest spots. Reigen kisses the back of his hand as he does, nuzzling his nose to Mob's ears. He purrs from the affection and from finding the ache he was looking for – Real punctures in his neck, marked by Reigen's teeth.

Of course he's happy.