You hear the click of the lock before you sense him. Toji’s the only one with a key, so you don’t even bother looking up when the door swings open. The familiar sound of his boots hitting the floor follows — a low thud as he kicks them off. The room is dark except for the dim glow of your phone screen, washing your face in light as you scroll aimlessly.

The bed dips under his weight as he steps into the room. Heavy footfalls, the rustle of fabric as he peels off his jacket. You don’t react when you feel his hands slide over your waist — the warmth of his palms pressing into your skin.

“You’re late,” you murmur without looking up.

“Yeah,” Toji grunts, his voice low and rough, like gravel beneath your feet.

Then his mouth is against the curve of your neck — sharp canines grazing your skin in a way that makes you shiver, his inky black ears brushing over your jaw. It’s familiar, this arrangement with him – just casual hookups when you feel the need.

Toji’s mouth trails down the side of your throat and then the slow, deliberate drag of his nose against your skin. "You smell different," Toji mutters. “Like someone else.”

“What?” you breathe. You’d gone out with some friends earlier, shared a hug or two. You know as a hybrid Toji has enhanced senses not to mention his heavenly pact but you don’t expect the way his voice sounds faintly displeased, like the smell is offensive.

Toji's head lifts, eyes dark under the shadows of his hair. His pupils are blown wide, dark blue irises ringed with thin yellow. His gaze drops to the curve of your throat, then back to your eyes. You stiffen when you feel it. The slow, deliberate drag of his cheek against your neck. His scent wraps around you, heavy and dark, sinking into your skin.

You freeze. “Are you… scenting me?” Toji doesn't scent. It's a concept hard to reconcile with him - his clan too harsh to allow the softness of his nature even when he was only a kid.

“You reek,” Toji mutters as his cheek drags over your throat slowly. “Can’t have that.”