Fukuzawa kisses Shibusawa’s cheek as the man reads his book, sitting in his lap, tired and weary from a long day of work.
Ever since Shibusawa had been spared in the crisis, he had taken up that banner, and become the new receptionist, replacing Naomi to answer calls, and occasionally, run out to get food for late night jobs being worked.
He had begun dating Fukuzawa, after an odd half-confession that led to a night of intimacy that neither of them could truly forget, and took up residence with the president soon afterwards, leaving the little dorm he shared with Kenji, of all people, and sharing the president’s futon.
Most of the time, though, Fukuzawa cooked.
And Fukuzawa cooked enough to feed a small family.
So, Shibusawa, who started off thin and bony and fairly sharp in some places at a neat 64 kilograms, had gone up to 73, filling out accordingly. His thighs were plush and warm, his belly soft and tits filled out just a fraction more, enough that Fukuzawa could hold them in his hand and squeeze slightly to watch the white marks left behind on already pale skin. Even his face had begun to look less sharp, cheeks rounding out just a bit and leaving him looking almost cherubic, all feathery white hair and Mona Lisa smiles.
This makes him become Fukuzawa’s pillow, for one, and personal onahole for the other. The amount of times Fukuzawa has simply hauled him into his lap or bent him over without a word is countless, but Shibusawa adores it. Fukuzawa gropes every inch of him he can, pinching and tugging at his nipples, hands stroking over his belly and pressing against it slightly to feel the give of his fat.
So now, Fukuzawa had a seemingly unending lust for Shibusawa’s body, warm and pressed against him, and he begins to lift up the smaller man’s yukata over his thighs.
“Hm? Yukichi-san, do you want it?”
Fukuzawa nods silently against his shoulder.
“Ah… okay.” Shibusawa reaches behind himself to flip up the yukata so his fat ass is on display, and Fukuzawa could die happy. He places his hands on it, gives it a firm squeeze as Shibusawa leans over a little bit more, still engrossed in his book.
Shibusawa turns a page.
Fukuzawa groans quietly as he pulls aside his kimono, pulling his dick out and rubbing it against Shibusawa’s ass down to his warm, wet pussy, and pressing the head of it right against his hole. There’s barely any give, but he can hear Shibusawa huffing, pushing back against him, and he keeps prodding and pushing until it slips into him, and Shibusawa gasps loudly.
“Is that good?”
Shibusawa nods, covering his mouth with a hand as he looks back at Fukuzawa with half lidded crimson eyes.
“Y-Yes. That’s… that’s really good.”
Hell, it hurts, the aching stretch as Fukuzawa sinks into him, but in the best way. His clit is stiff, only getting harder as Fukuzawa slides deeper into him, until he can feel his pelvis press against his ass, and hear the low exhale he lets out.
Fukuzawa kisses him, and begins to move. Shibusawa continues reading his book, legs now spread wide open over his thighs, yukata draping in front to hide his leaking cunt from anyone who happens to barge in, like assassins or Ranpo.
Meanwhile, Fukuzawa slowly, tediously fucks him, careful not to go too fast or hard, holding onto Shibusawa’s love handles beneath his yukata, squeezing hard and leaving deep red marks on his skin. His cunt is velvety smooth all around him, tight and wet and hot, the best thing Fukuzawa has ever had the pleasure of fucking open mercilessly every morning and every night. Shibusawa has a demanding libido, and ever since they started going out two months ago, Fukuzawa has had more sex than he’s ever had in his near fifty years of life.
Which is to say, a lot.
Fukuzawa would never get tired of it though, not even if all he gets out of Shibusawa are quiet little moans and mewls and an arch of his back. Sometimes, if he thrusts into him hard enough, he’ll shake and drop his book and that’s when it gets interesting- he’ll shove Shibusawa over the coffee table and fuck him like a dog, until Shibusawa goes limp and all that’s holding him up is Fukuzawa’s sturdy arms and the cock buried inside of him.
And that’s just what he has in mind for tonight, despite the silent treatment Shibusawa is giving him, obviously more interested in his book more than the president of the Armed Detective Agency fucking him like he’s possessed. He’s slamming into Shibusawa hard but there’s no give, no loud moan of his name and the inevitable pitch forwards as he drops his book.
So Fukuzawa settles for the next best thing-- he hugs Shibusawa tight around his soft belly, drags him up and against him instead of leaning forwards, and slams up into him.
Shibusawa squeals, but keeps reading, hiding his face with his book now, legs closing but it only makes every sensation all the more intense, so he lets his legs dangle open, and gives up on fighting it anymore. He lets out tiny, gasping moans, short and stilted and Fukuzawa buries his face in his mane of long hair, relishing the wet, lewd noises echoing throughout the room.
Before long, he can feel Shibusawa clamping down tight around him, and a groan of his name. Shibusawa comes trembling and sighing in relief, and Fukuzawa follows suit. His partner moans out and turns to the last page of his book as he does, feeling the sticky ropes of cum being pumped into him, and as Fukuzawa pulls out, he feels the mess taking its sweet time to drip out of him with the sheer amount and how deep it was shot into him. He’s quite sure that if the dirty magazines the Tanizaki girl left lying around were true to life, his womb would have been packed full of it, and he’d be left dripping for days on end.
He drops his book in surrender to the floor, and Fukuzawa nips his shoulder.
Shibusawa laughs softly and leans back against him, chubby legs splayed wide, fingers toying with the mess seeping out of his flushed, swollen folds, dragging strands up against his fat clit.
“I love you too, Yukichi.”
Fukuzawa sighs and tilts Shibusawa’s head back so he can kiss him.
Tomorrow, he’s sure he’ll have a more attentive audience.