Work Header


Work Text:

There are buckets of paint, a few house-warming gifts, and a futon laid out beside a short stack of boxes labeled "IMPORTANT SHIT" which mostly contain Nino's gaming systems. Otherwise, the house is empty. In the kitchen, Aiba is finishing off the last of the wine (a gift from Sho) while Nino puts away dishes (a complete set of American Fiestaware, half green and half yellow, from Jun). Nino is standing on his tiptoes in front of the counter, edging the last of the bowls into the cupboard in front of him, when Aiba comes up from behind to wrap his arms loosely around Nino's chest.

For that first moment, Nino is thrown off balance, but Aiba's body is firm behind him, keeping him steady. Aiba is warm and comfortable as always, maybe even a little warmer because of the wine, and when his lips brush gently against Nino's neck, Nino can't help the way his eyes drift closed for just a moment.

"Our first house," Aiba murmurs into Nino's hair. Nino can tell from the quiet, thoughtful sound of his voice that he's been thinking about it for a while, but that's nothing unusual: it's a semi-momentous occasion and there's alcohol involved, so Nino would be surprised if Aiba weren't getting emotional.

What he's not expecting is the sharp nip of Aiba's teeth on the back of his neck, sending a jolt right up his spine. When Aiba's hips press into his, he can feel that Aiba is hard.

"Not now, Aiba-chan," he groans. "It's been a long day."

"You hardly did anything," Aiba accuses, and of course he's right. He presses closer, crowding Nino up against the counter. "Besides, it's our new house. We have to christen it."

"Christen it," Nino repeats, skeptical.

"Yeah! We have to make it our own."

"I thought that's why we painted it."

Aiba nuzzles the ticklish spot behind Nino's ear, smiling so wide Nino can feel it. "Well, that was just part of it. But we have to really make it ours. We'll start here, and then there's the bathroom, and the garage, and of course the bedroom, and the closet—"

"The closet?" Nino interrupts. "Wouldn't that be a bit cramped?"

"You're small enough that we could fit. You could pull yourself up on the bar and—"

"Okay, I get it." Nino tries to sound put off, but he's quickly losing steam because the truth is that by now, he's just as worked up as Aiba is. "We don't have anything," he tries, one final attempt to be contrary.

"One second!" Aiba cries, far too loud in Nino's ear, and then he's skipping away, out of the kitchen. Nino rolls his eyes and swipes the last gulp of wine from the bottle, then turns back to the dishes, lifting the first of the plates up into the cupboard. He can hear Aiba rustling through the boxes in the living room.

When Aiba returns, he's grinning triumphantly and holding his prize for Nino to see: the bottle of lube and the box of condoms they usually keep in the bedside drawer.

Nino fixes him with a stare. "Seriously?" he deadpans. "We don't even have the bed yet."

Aiba is beaming, completely shameless. "You brought your games, right? I brought my favorite things too."

Nino turns away from the counter, forgetting the dishes stacked there and the still-open cupboard as Aiba crosses the kitchen floor, stepping right back into Nino's personal space. Nino slides his hands along the firm curves of Aiba's arms, over his shoulders, until his fingers can twist in the cool strands of Aiba's hair and pull him down into an open-mouthed kiss. It starts slow, almost chaste—just their mouths moving against each other, tasting each other—but it escalates quickly, the way it always does with them. Before long Nino finds himself arching almost painfully against the counter, breathing shakily as Aiba's knee presses up between his thighs. He's clutching the collar of Aiba's shirt so tightly that the fabric is stretching, warping, but it's just one of Aiba's raggedy old tee-shirts, something he put on to paint, so Nino doesn't feel too bad about it.

Aiba suddenly tugs Nino's head back by his hair, not gentle at all, and mouths over the sharp curve of his jaw, the point of his Adam's apple, and lower still. "Gonna fuck you so hard," he breathes into the hollow of Nino's throat, "right here on the counter. Gonna make you come all over the cupboards." His voice is all breathless and husky, and it makes Nino's own breath hitch. "Then I'm gonna fuck you in the living room, and in the hallway, and in the shower..."

"You're all talk," Nino counters. It's about all he can manage at this point.

Without a word, Aiba grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around, shoving him up against the counter. Nino doesn't get a chance to recover before Aiba is reaching around his body and palming roughly at the front of his jeans. Nino bats his hand away to hastily undo the button, to wrench the zipper open, and with some effort and a bit of wiggling, he pushes his boxers and skinny jeans over his hips and down his thighs. He really had been tired before, but now he's achingly hard and impatient as he props his elbows on the counter, listening to Aiba roll a condom on and uncap the lube.

Aiba dusts kisses across the back of Nino's neck, each one edged with teeth, too soft to leave a mark. With his clean hand, he yanks the collar of Nino's shirt down and sucks a bruise into the skin there, right over the knob of Nino's spine, until Nino can feel the skin tingling. "Come on," he growls, and that's when Aiba bites down at the same time that he slips the first finger in.

Nino pants and jerks, but he's caught between Aiba and the counter and there's nowhere for him to move, so he settles for leaning his weight on his elbows and digging his fingers into the grooves between the counter tiles because there's nothing else for him to hold on to. Aiba kicks his legs apart, spreading them as wide as the skinny jeans will allow, and works another finger into him. He gives Nino a minute to adjust, then adds a third finger, crooking them until Nino has to bite his lip to keep from crying out. When Aiba does it a second time, Nino can't quite manage to hold back the moan.

"All over the cupboards," Aiba reminds him.

Nino grits his teeth. "Just do it."

Aiba responds by pulling his fingers out and reaching around to grasp Nino's cock. Nino jerks again, then shudders when Aiba starts stroking, his hand still slick with the last of the lube. Aiba is leaning against him, trying to bend him over, but the countertop is just barely higher than Nino's waist, too tall for him to lean over it. Instead it just digs into his stomach, right under his ribs.

Aiba grunts, thrusting shallowly against Nino's hip and grabbing at his waist with the hand that isn't stroking him. "Fuck, you're so short."

"Fuck you," Nino snaps. When Aiba's hand on his dick begins to slow, he grasps Aiba's wrist and tries to speed up the movements again, whining low in his throat before he can even think to stop himself, but Aiba is stronger than him and just as stubborn.

"What if you get on the counter?"

"Don't kid yourself, you're not that tall."

This is a problem they didn't anticipate when they first looked at the house, but now that they're faced with it, they'll have to find a way around it. That's okay, though. Nino is good at improvising. He looks up at the cupboard above him, the door still hanging open to reveal the dishes he'd been stacking neatly inside, and remembers Aiba's comment about the closet: You could pull yourself up on the bar...

He braces himself on the counter with his right hand and reaches out with his left, latching on to the highest shelf he can reach, and uses it to hoist himself up onto the very tips of his toes. "Try that," he says over his shoulder. Immediately, he feels the blunt, slick head of Aiba's cock nudge up against him, and he takes a deep breath.

When Aiba pushes inside, Nino isn't ready. He's never ready. The stretch and fullness of Aiba inside of him always catches him off guard, it's always more than he expects, and it always sets off sparks like fireworks that flash and fizzle through his whole body. He feels them behind his eyes, in his mouth, in his throat, in his heart, all the way down to his toes.

"Okay?" Aiba asks behind him. Nino exhales shakily and manages to stutter out an "Uh-huh" that trails into a moan when Aiba starts thrusting.

Aiba doesn't sound too coherent himself; he's already panting as his hand speeds up again on Nino's cock. He bites down on the curve of Nino's shoulder blade, mouths a wet trail up his back, murmurs into the crook of his neck, "Every room in this house, every single room. In here, once we get the furniture— on the table, on the island, against the fridge— over the games in the living room, and bent over the couch, and by the fireplace— on the carpet in the hallway— in the shower and bent over the sink and on top of the washing machine and over the stove and under the—"

"Aiba-chan," Nino cuts in, pushing back into Aiba's slow, unfocused thrusts.

"What," Aiba gasps.

"Shut up and fuck me."

Aiba does, and when Nino's arms start to shake from holding himself up for so long, Aiba wraps an arm around his waist to help him out.


Afterwards, when Nino is trying to catch his breath and Aiba is tying off the condom, Nino catches Aiba smirking at something. He follows Aiba's line of sight to the cupboards beneath the counter: the one Nino was standing in front of is splattered with come, just like Aiba promised.

Aiba must know better than to say something as obvious as "I told you so," because he's managing to keep his mouth shut. But Nino doesn't think Aiba could wipe the self-satisfied look off his face if their lease depended on it.

Nino huffs as he zips up his jeans. "Put your pants back on and help me put these dishes away, you pervert."

Aiba's smile grows even wider, until his teeth are showing and his eyes are crinkled up around the corners. It's as bright as the sun. Nino forces an eye-roll and turns away just in case his expression reflects the way his heart skips a beat.

But when he turns his back, Aiba is there in a flash, trapping him in a hug that squeezes the air right out of his lungs.

"Nino," Aiba breathes. "I love you. I really, really love you."

This time, Nino is sure Aiba can feel his heart fluttering up against his ribs, against Aiba's arms where they wrap around Nino's chest. He doesn't even bother trying to hide it. "I love you too, Aiba-chan." He can at least buffer it, though. "Even though you're a complete idiot."

Aiba just squeezes him tighter.


The next morning, they christen the living room before it's even time for breakfast.