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The Obsession

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Halfway through his sets of squats he sensed someone in the gym with him. He had exactly one guess who. He set the barbell back on the rack and took a headphone out, expecting to hear—

“Hi, Hitoshi.”

He took out the other headphone with a sigh, turning to face him. Denki smiled back at him, looking pleased with himself. “Do you wanna fuck?” Denki asked, as simple as that.

"Look who found me. It's Denki." Hitoshi crossed his arms, ignoring his question. Denki had been hunting Hitoshi for sport since their first year, always trying to get him alone. And once they were alone, asking first for a kiss, then for kisses, then for more. He wanted more every time. Hitoshi dragged his eyes up from Denki’s belly button to frown at him. “You shouldn’t interrupt me when I’m lifting. It's bad etiquette.”

“At least make out with me.” Denki made a show of pouting, running one finger back and forth under his choker.

Shameless, as always. And it got Hitoshi’s attention, as always. Not always, he told himself. Just sometimes. He rarely gave in, these times when Denki cornered him. It was a matter of pride to resist him.

After all, from Hitoshi's perspective Denki was trying to break his resolve. And hadn't he said, years ago, that he didn't want friends? Nothing had changed. Except Denki. He'd gotten more sure of himself. He'd planned this in advance, there was no question—he was dressed for a workout but wearing his choker. The black tights clung to him. The white shirt was thin and small. His stubby ponytail was coming loose, falling prettily around his face. This was an ambush.

“At least let me finish my reps,” Hitoshi said.  

"Then what?"

"Next is bench presses. You can spot me."

“That sounds boring.” Denki closed the distance between them. One of his greatest talents was getting in close and looking up at him with those eyes until Hitoshi caved. Hitoshi was already frozen, helpless, as Denki ran a hand up his bicep, his fingers lingering as they dragged through his sweat. “Nobody’s here but us.”

“You know, some guys like to work for it,” Hitoshi said, because Denki looked about ready to lean in for a kiss.

Denki laughed at him. “You’ve never had to work for it, Hitoshi. So how would you know?” He ran his hands over Hitoshi's chest, keeping his eyes down as he said, "I just took a shower. I'm all clean for you. And you’re so sweaty—"

Hitoshi groaned. “God, you don’t give up.”

Denki smiled. “Plus ultra.”

“Forget it.” Hitoshi smiled back. “Sensei warned me about distractions.”

“Don’t be lame. You're allowed to have fun.” Denki slipped between Hitoshi and the rack, draping his arms over the barbell behind him. “I’ll be your workout, if it’s that important,” he said, swaying a little like he couldn’t hold still. “No strings attached.”

“Doesn't that seem dangerous? A drone could find us. Someone might walk in.”

“Maybe,” Denki said. He shifted his weight from side to side, all skin and skintight clothes. “I've been thinking that's what you like though. I mean, after last time. And we can pretend like—like you're punishing me for following you.” Denki was getting excited, his eyes lighting up at the thought. “I want you to punish me this time, okay? If they're really gonna find us, I want you to be spanking me.”

“You deserve it.” It was the wrong thing to say. His skin prickled with the sudden static in the air.

“That's so mean," Denki said. He was pinked up, breathing hard. "You're always so mean. Like that time—remember—you fucked me on that playground slide cause you said it was the only way I'd learn my lesson."

“I meant it,” Hitoshi said, feeling his neck get hot from embarrassment.

“Yeah, but that's a mixed message. D’you kind of see what I mean? That's your problem. At least I’m straightforward about it. And I’d think it would be so hot if you like, hate-fucked me in the gym.”

“I don’t hate you, though.”

Denki smiled, wrinkling his nose. “I know.”

"I like you," he said, feeling a little dizzy to admit it. He wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt, just for an excuse to break eye contact. The truth was that Denki made Hitoshi’s mouth go dry. The easy way he had, with everyone and everything. The way he moved. The way he offered himself up and laughed off any doubts about if it was the right thing to do.

“Let’s fuck,” Denki said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Please?”

This wasn’t like their early days when he’d first let Denki paw him between rounds at the Sports Festival, just looking to get off. Every day, the stakes rose for Hitoshi. He’d catch himself staring with some dumb smile on his face, watching Denki twist his hair around his finger in class. He’s catch himself scrolling endlessly through Denki’s instagram, something like a sigh caught in the back of his throat. He’d catch himself lingering, alone in the locker room, hoping Denki would appear, ready to suck him off for a laugh. It wasn’t ideal. Now, with Denki clean and cute and fidgeting in front of him while Hitoshi was still panting, his headband soaked through, his muscles burning, Hitoshi knew he wouldn’t say no. He’d been waiting to be found again.

“I’ll get you dirty,” Hitoshi said. He stepped closer, trapping Denki’s back against the bar.

“That’s what I want, dummy.” Denki tilted his chin up. He probably thought he'd earned a kiss.

“Prove it.”

Hitoshi stopped short of Denki’s neck—he knew how he liked to wear bruises from Hitoshi to class like they were ribbons from the mayor—and twisted a hand in his hair instead, to push him down to his knees. Denki went down easy, tugging Hitoshi’s shorts down, too. He nuzzled his face against Hitoshi’s silver boxer briefs, glancing up at him, smug, like he’d gotten his way.

“Get me hard,” Hitoshi told him, holding his face close by his stubby ponytail. Denki hooked his fingers around his boxers—skin so cool compared to Hitoshi’s—and slid them off. He leaned in to lick the sweat off Hitoshi’s stomach with a moan, then took Hitoshi’s cock in his hand, tongue teasing the sides, fingers teasing his balls, eyes teasing Hitoshi.

Hitoshi knew what could happen if they got caught, but that fear turned to static watching Denki on his knees, so eager even for his dirty cock, reeking of sweat. So eager for anything, like a kitten desperate to play.

“Go ahead. Suck it,” Hitoshi said, tugging his ponytail. The tie came loose in his hand, Denki’s blond hair falling down, still damp from his shower. Denki flashed a look up into his eyes, but Hitoshi stayed on track, “That’s all you want, right? A cock in your mouth?”

Denki swallowed him up with a hum, Hitoshi’s cock sliding deep down his throat until his gag reflex pushed back. Hitoshi folded his arms over the bar, panting. This was stupid. Reckless. Not just because it was public, but because it was Denki. Still, his eager mouth wasn’t enough for him. He tugged him off his cock and up to standing. “Pull your pants down,” he said.

Denki tugged his leggings down, laughing at his impatience. “I knew you couldn’t give it up. You can’t ever say no.”

“That’s not true.” Hitoshi pulled him close and felt between Denki's cheeks—he was slicked up and ready. “Jesus.”

Denki laughed, sucking bruises on Hitoshi’s neck as Hitoshi played with his slicked up hole.

“This is the part that’s a workout,” Hitoshi told him. Denki yelped when Hitoshi picked him up, bracing him back against the bar as he lined his cock up, pushing inside. He had to bite his lip to keep from groaning, until Denki leaned in to bite his lip for him, licking into his mouth without hesitation, still laughing between kisses like it was all a joke.

“Do you walk around slicked up like this?”

“All the time,” Denki said, between puffed out breaths. “So if you ever want me—”

“Yeah?” Hitoshi started to bounce him on his cock, fingers bruising Denki’s hips as Denki held onto the bar, white knuckled but making lots of noise. “You’re a freak.”

“I know. Especially—ah!—for you.”

“Especially?” Hitoshi asked. It was a pretty sight, Denki’s chest and neck all flushed, muscles flexed to keep himself from falling. His cock was slender and pink, arched up onto his stomach. His eyes were hazy and heavy-lashed but never left Hitoshi’s face. He looked cute, like somebody’s sweetheart, even with his pink lips hanging open like porn star. He’d fuck anyone who’d have him, though he saved the stalking for Hitoshi. Everyone knew what a slut he was. Especially Hitoshi.

“It’s so big.” Denki’s voice got high and whiny with a cock up his ass. His little eyebrows drew  close together.

“That’s what you need.”

“Ah—” Denki’s eyelashes fluttered. “God—”  

“Wouldn’t walk around ready to fuck if you were already filled up with come, right?”

“Fuck.” Denki let his head drop back, blond hair stuck to his face by spit. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fill me up.”

“Fill what up?”


“Your fucked out blond cunt, Denki?”

“Ah—yes! Please fill my little cunt up.”

“I’m gonna.”

“All the time. Not just tonight. Please—”

“I—” Hitoshi had to look at the wall, hiss a breath out through his teeth—not yet, not yet. “I will.” He pulled Denki away from the bar, until he was draped over him, clinging to his shoulders, legs tight around his hips. Hitoshi’s arms burned, lifting him up to fuck him down onto his cock. It was slower than before, harder to stay standing, but it felt good. It felt incredible. The hot squeeze of him, the broken noises he made in Hitoshi’s ear. Then the heat Denki gave off started to change, prickling Hitoshi’s skin with an electric charge.     

“Don’t you dare fucking shock us like you did on that slide,” Hitoshi growled, eyeing the metal rack around them.

“I c-can’t help it.”

“Be a good boy for me, Denki.”

“Mm—makes it worse.” Denki arched back in Hitoshi’s arms. He could hear the crackle of static building over Denki’s skin. Hitoshi took two steps back, out of the squat rack, then dropped Denki onto a bench, grabbing both ankles to tilt him up as he fucked into him hard. Now the lightning licked freely over them both, absorbed into the bench’s thick padding. It still stung like hell, and made Hitoshi howl like a bear with its paw in a trap each time it licked through him.

But he loved it. Nothing made him harder. Denki tipped nearly upside down from the strength of his thrusts, hands braced behind his head on the carpet as Hitoshi drove into his ass. When he hit Denki’s sweet spot, the sudden flash and burn of electricity made them both come at once. Denki’s dripped onto his chest while Hitoshi filled his sticky ass up, like he’d promised.

Hitoshi pulled out slow, suddenly conscious of how rough he’d been. It was easy to throw him around, but the thought of hurting him made Hitoshi’s stomach flip. When Denki winced, Hitoshi asked, “Are you okay?” Too quickly. Much too softly.

But Denki just said, “I’m alright.” His eyes were closed, voice far away.

Hitoshi straightened up, reclaiming his boxers and his shorts, reclaiming his careless attitude in hopes Denki didn’t catch his slip. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he said, tugging on his own clothes as he watched Denki’s chest rise and fall, still sprawled bonelessly on the carpet, his legs still draped over the bench, bare thighs all wet between.

Denki stretched his arms above his head, blinking his gold eyes open to smile at Hitoshi. “I got what I wanted, so yeah. I am.”   

“Next time let me come to you,” Hitoshi said. He hadn’t had the words to ask for this before, but maybe the shocks to the head and the heart and his cock had at last pulled this truth from him.

Denki said, “Uh huh.” Like he didn’t believe it.

“I mean it.”

Denki narrowed his eyes. “You could. Anytime. You just never do.”

“I know. But I’m not really looking for—I mean. I didn’t think I was looking for—”

Denki waited him out, looking amused.

“I already told you that I, uh.” Suddenly it was impossible to said it again—that Hitoshi liked him—not with Denki watching him like he knew it all along. “Look. When I was a kid this group of girls would chase me all over the playground at recess.”

Denki raised his eyebrows at the sudden change of subject, but smiled, hearing him out. “I bet they did.”

“It went on for years. I fucking hated it, Denki. I used to spend recess hiding in a tree. For years.”

“I bet all the girls loved you,” Denki said, dreamily.

“It was more like they were obsessed. And I think that’s why I'm so bad at—”

“No,” Denki said. “They loved you.”

Hitoshi didn’t know what to do, letting this idea, this dangerous word, hang in the air. “You’re sure?” he asked, finally.

Denki held his gaze easily. “Yeah.”