“Of course, I went to Chuuya!” Dazai beamed—right before he was slammed off the barstool by a furious small redhead with his hand pressed hard enough over Dazai’s mouth, he tasted blood.

He shoved back and Chuuya gave him a narrow-eyed glared but cautiously loosened his grip.

“You are my— Ow!” Dazai carefully licked his blood and gums. Definitely blood. “How rude, Chuuya!”

Ango looked consternated while Oda seemed calm, sipping his whiskey and taking it all in stride.

Chuuya wasn’t Dazai’s dog, but he was a conveniently available partner and alpha. No one actually wondered who knotted him.