Work Text:
It took some time convincing Jiro and Saburo, but Ichiro has Sunday evenings reserved for Samatoki. They continually bid him farewell with dubious looks and Ichiro always has to reassure them that he’s visiting Samatoki out of his own volition. Despite trying to talk to them about his and Samatoki’s relationship, Jiro and Saburo are still weary, and Ichiro knows they have plenty of reason to be.
Though their relationship is no longer heated jabs and impromptu rap battles, they see each other when time permits, and Ichiro’s found out that there’s softer sides to Samatoki since they started dating.
When Ichiro gets off the train, the evening sun in Yokohama hangs high and hot. Thankfully, the walk to Samatoki’s place from the station is short and Ichiro doesn’t have to swelter in the heat for long.
He knocks on Samatoki’s door, and Samatoki promptly answers, “It’s about fuckin’ time.”
“You know how long it takes me to get here,” Ichiro rolls his eyes fondly. “And Jiro and Saburo - ”
“Yeah, I know. They didn’t want to let their precious Nii-chan go,” Samatoki grabs Ichiro by the hand and pulls him inside. He barely gets the chance to kick off his shoes before Samatoki winds his arms around Ichiro’s shoulders, “Hey, there’s something I wanna do.”
Ichiro doesn’t pick-up on Samatoki’s suggestive tone, “What is it?”
“Bed,” Samatoki says, voice lowered, and leans forward to kiss Ichiro but he stops him.
“What? I thought we were having dinner?”
Samatoki unwinds his arms from Ichiro’s frame, “Still too soon?”
“For what?”
Oh, Samatoki’s starting to look annoyed now, eyebrow twitching, and Ichiro doesn’t know why, “Sex.”
“O-Oh…”
It’s not like Ichiro hasn’t thought about it. He’s wanted to sleep with Samatoki for years now, and it’s crossed his mind on more than one occasion. Ichiro’s simply worried that his lack of experience isn’t going to be enough for Samatoki, so he’s consciously putting it off.
From experience, Ichiro knows it’s better if he voices his thoughts, “It’s not like I don’t want to but...I just wanna make you feel good.”
“You will,” Samatoki answers so easily and with so much more faith in him than Ichiro has in himself, and somehow, that eases his nerves. Samatoki wraps his arms around him again and leans in close, lips hovering above his own, “And I wanna make you feel good too. The feelin’s mutual.”
And Samatoki kisses him, softer than expected but with a lingering greed.
The kiss alone stirs something inside of Ichiro, and he breathes out as the kiss breaks, “Okay.”
“Yeah?” Ichiro loves that Samatoki sounds hopeful, happy.
He nods, feeling a little more sure of himself than he did moments ago, “But first, can we seriously have dinner?”
Samatoki blinks before breaking out into a snorty laugh, “Yeah, okay. I guess you’ll need your stamina.” Ichiro then briefly wonders how long they’re going to be going at it if Samatoki says that. “What d’ya want?”
“Anything,” Ichiro answers truthfully. “I’ve missed your cooking.”
Samatoki cooks and he lets Ichiro ramble on about a job that he did today, and sometimes Samatoki enlists him for help in the kitchen. It reminds him of when Samatoki would invite Ichiro over for meals to make sure he was eating properly. But this time, they’re having a meal as equals, lovers, not because Samatoki is worried over some high school kid.
It’s like all the dinners they share together except Ichiro can tell that Samatoki’s gaze lingers more and his foot sometimes rubs up Ichiro’s ankle. Samatoki is impatient, but he’s trying his best for him.
Samatoki’s patience runs out when Ichiro tries to do the dishes, promptly pulling him from the sink by hand, “Later.”
Ichiro can’t help but crack a smile, “You’ve never been this eager before. Why today?”
“You can’t tell that I’m horny?” Samatoki huffs, now practically dragging him to the bedroom.
“Oh…” Ichiro feels hot when he realizes that Samatoki is horny for him .
“You’re a little slow,” Samatoki chuckles fondly as they enter the bedroom. Suddenly, Ichiro’s on the bed on his back with Samatoki before him, peeling his shirt off. “But it’s cute.”
Ichiro flushes, “Shut up.”
Samatoki flashes him a smirk before straddling him, and the weight and friction to his groin makes Ichiro hiss, “Yeah, yeah.”
Ichiro doesn’t get a chance to counter back because Samatoki kisses him, hungrier than earlier at the door. He mirrors that hunger, reaching up to thread his fingers through Samatoki’s hair and pull him even closer as they kiss. Ichiro’s not sure how long they kiss for, but his lips already feel bruised as Samatoki likes to occasionally bite at his bottom lip.
Using all his strength, Ichiro maneuvers them so Samatoki’s now on his back.
He sits up between Samatoki legs, pulling his own shirt off.
“You’re getting serious,” Samatoki’s still smirking.
“Seriously, shut up,” Ichiro knows he’s blushing.
“Make me,” Samatoki taunts, naturally.
Ichiro’s still a slave to Samatoki’s taunts, so he surges forward, kissing Samatoki with an unparalleled eagerness. What Ichiro loves is that Samatoki responds to it earnestly, almost like he wants to one up Ichiro. Though that’s them , they love to make everything into a competition.
He can feel Samatoki’s hands trace down his body, and every place Samatoki touches leaves a heat that persists and warms him to his core, urging him to keep going.
Samatoki’s hands reach the waistband of his jeans and pull. Catching his breath, Ichiro sits up and starts to undo his jeans to realize his hands are shaky.
“You good?” Even with how impatient Samatok is, he still cares.
“Yeah, I’m just…”
“Nervous?” Samatoki finishes for him.
Ichiro nods. He’s nervous, but he wants this - he’s wanted this for years.
Samatoki’s hands replace his own and Ichiro allows it, watches as Samatoki unbuttons his jeans for him. With Samatoki’s help, Ichiro finally gets out of his jeans and shimmies out of his underwear.
“It’s not fair if I’m the only one naked,” He pouts.
“Now who’s impatient,” Ichiro wishes he could be as carefree as Samatoki right now.
“Still you.”
Samatoki wrestles out of his own pants and boxers until he’s fully nude. Ichiro swallows, tries to keep his head on straight with the sight in front him. Samatoki’s already hard and waiting. His whole body thrums with nervous energy when he realizes they’re that much closer to being fully connected.
Then Samatoki reaches out and begins to stroke him, and Ichiro falls forward with a hiss as his limbs shake from the sudden contact. It’s just a hand, but it already feels good.
He figures he should reciprocate, so Ichiro grabs Samatoki cock, heavy and hot in his hand and mirrors the ministrations. Samatoki hums, appreciative.
“There’s lube in my drawer,” Samatoki instructs, no longer sounding as impatient as before since there’s a hand around his dick.
“Right,” Ichiro extracts himself to rummage through the top drawer of Samatoki’s nightstand. He finds the lube - the bottle is obvious enough, and half used which Ichiro tries not to think about - but no condoms. “Samatoki?”
“Hm?”
“Condoms?”
The last thing he expects to hear is, “You can go in raw.” It nearly makes him choke on his own spit.
Ichiro bites his bottom lip, “...I don’t want to.”
Samatoki raises an eyebrow, “Why not?”
Honestly, he answers, “I don’t wanna hurt you.” Samatoki smacks him upside the head, “Ow - what was that for?!”
“I ain’t some pillow princess!” Samatoki defends. “If you’re worried about me being some walking venereal disease that ain’t it either!” A little bit of a mood killer on Samatoki’s part, but Ichiro knows discussing these things are important. Ichiro can tell Samatoki looks discouraged by the conversation, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to figure Ichiro out, “Is this a deal breaker?”
“N-No!” Ichiro reassures. The only reason Ichiro is willing to keep going is because he trusts Samatoki. “We can continue.”
Samatoki relaxes into the bed again and takes one of Ichiro’s wrists in hands, “Good.”
Ichiro’s heart nearly explodes when he watches Samatoki kiss the inside of his wrist. It’s so tender, so soft for Samatoki that Ichiro might melt on the spot. Though the affection is short-lived, because Samatoki brings Ichiro’s index and middle finger into his mouth and sucks. A shiver runs through his body at the sensation and the sight. He didn’t know Samatoki could be this lewd.
Once his fingers are coated and wet with saliva, Samatoki removes them with a salacious pop and licks his lips, “Get me ready. I’ll take you through it.”
Ichiro tries to steady himself with a deep breath, “Okay.”
He grabs the lube and coats the fingers Samatoki had diligently sucked on earlier. Cautiously, he presses his index finger into Samatoki to the second knuckle and observes that Samatoki groans, realizing that he’s also watching him . Ichiro feels himself turn flush, wanting to live up to Samatoki’s expectation.
“Keep going,” Samatoki says, breathless, and just the sound makes Ichiro’s own cock twitch.
Pressing his finger all the way to the third knuckle, Ichiro gets an idea of how tight Samatoki is and begins to loosen him up the best he can. The small noises that Samatoki lets slip past his lips keeps Ichiro going and only furthers the excitement building within him. It’s when Samatoki starts to feel softer around his finger that he instructs for more. Ichiro obliges, inserting another finger along the first one and stretching Samatoki further.
He sees Samatoki’s cock twitch on his stomach, hard and forgotten, and Ichiro uses his free hand to stroke him in time with his fingers. Samatoki bites at his bottom lip, but it doesn’t look like it's out of discomfort so Ichiro continues.
“O-One more…” Samatoki asks, and Ichiro’s happy to please, wanting to keep Samatoki on edge like he’s doing now.
With a third finger in, Ichiro can freely pump his fingers in and out of Samatoki without much resistance. It must feel good, because Ichiro can’t stop watching how Samatoki tries his damndest not to make much noise.
Despite fearing that Samatoki might bite his head off for such a comment, Ichiro still says, “Are you always this sensitive or…?”
Samatoki shakes his head against the sheets, swallowing hard before speaking, “Because I’m your first...it’s makin’ me excited. Fuck, I don’t know - ”
He’s cut off by a moan when Ichiro curls his fingers, and Ichiro stops, wondering if he did something right.
“You always did learn fast,” Samatoki chuckles, still a little breathless.
Knowing he did something good, that he pleased Samatoki, makes Ichiro’s whole body run hotter than before. He repeats the action, curling his fingers just so inside Samatoki that it makes his cock leak in Ichiro’s hand.
Suddenly, Samatoki’s swatting at his hand, “E-Enough. I’m good.”
Concerned, Ichiro asks, “Are you sure?”
“Damn straight.”
Ichiro nods and withdraws his fingers, eliciting a small moan from Samatoki. He frees Samatoki cock as well and grabs the lube, graciously coating his own neglected arousal until slick. It hits Ichiro as he lines himself up that he’s losing his virginity, and with the one person he’s wanted to lose it with for years. He’s still nervous, but so far, Samatoki’s been reassuring him along the way and he’s grateful for his extended patience.
He carves a space for himself as he slowly enters Samatoki. Ichiro bites his lip this time, holding back a groan at how good Samatoki feels around him. It’s hot, tight, and slick and Samatoki welcomes him like he’s been waiting for him.
Samatoki’s chest heaves, “Fuck, you’re bigger than I thought.”
Immediately, Ichiro panics, “Do you want me to pull - ”
“If you pull out, I’ll seriously kill you,” Samatoki whines, and it’s hard to take the threat seriously when Samatoki already looks so far gone. “You’re good...amazing, even.” For further reassurance, Samatoki locks his legs around Ichiros’ waist and grinds.
Ichiro collapses forward, bracing himself on either side of Samatoki’s shoulders and trying to keep his breathing even, “Shit..” He curses.
Samatoki smirks, “Feelin’ good?”
He pushes his bangs back, “Too good…” Ichiro admits, worried he’s not gonna last long enough. “I need a minute.”
“Take your time. We got all night, Ichiro.” The way his name leaves Samatoki’s lips only excites him further, and patience be damned, Ichiro experimentally rolls his hips forward and Samatoki shuts up, “Ah - shit - !”
Ichiro slowly builds up a rhythm, one that he feels he can maintain and is enough for Samatoki, who starts to squirm beneath him. He’s never experienced any sort of pleasure quite like this before, and it thrills Ichiro that he’s experiencing it with Samatoki - that it’s Samatoki who is making him feel this way.
It’s when Ichiro changes the angle of his hips that Samatoki bites on his fist, holding back a throaty moan. Even while swimming in pleasure, Ichiro has enough conscious to pull Samatoki’s fist away and pin it to the bed, threading their fingers together.
“Don’t...I wanna hear you,” Ichiro requests, because he wants to hear and see how he’s making Samatoki come undone.
“Ah - you damn brat - ” If Samatoki wasn’t moaning, then maybe there would be a bite behind his words.
He can feel Samatoki tighten around him, and Ichiro winces, an unmistakable pleasure mounting in his gut and begging for release.
“Samatoki,” He pants.
“W-What?”
“I’m gonna come,” He announces, frustrated that he’s already getting there so soon but unable to slow down.
“ ‘s fine,” Samatoki swallows, “come inside me.”
“But - ”
“I said it’s fine,” Samatoki makes his point by locking his legs tightly around Ichiro’s waist so he has nowhere to go.
Ichiro keeps up the pace he set earlier, angling his hips just right so Samatoki’s moans reach higher in octave. Squeezing their fingers together, his hips stutter when Samatoki tightens around him again, and Ichiro comes. His legs shake as his orgasm hits him, and he can barely hold himself up as he fucks Samatoki throughout the pleasure.
The last of his orgasm blissfully fades and Ichiro’s hips stop. He catches his breath, exhausted mentally and physically.
Belatedly, Ichiro wonders if Samatoki even came and panics. Though he worries for nothing, because when Ichiro looks, he sees a smattering of white across Samatoki’s abdomen and watches as his muscles twitch from stimulation.
He made Samatoki come.
Ichiro can’t help but smile.
“What’s that goofy ass look on your face for?” Samatoki pants, brushing his hair aside and pushing himself up on his elbows.
“Sorry, it’s just - did I make you feel good?” Ichiro asks, hopeful.
Samatoki snickers, “Like I said, you're a fast learner.” And he playfully punches Ichiro’s arm.
Ichiro warms, happy that he was able to please Samatoki like he had wanted to.
Carefully, he pulls out of Samatoki and watches as his come slowly spills out. Ichiro kind of hates how he finds it hot.
Samatoki groans and sits up, “Can you grab a towel? I sure as hell can’t walk.”
Ichiro dutifully hops off the bed and goes to Samatoki’s bathroom for a towel. When he returns, he cleans off Samatoki’s stomach and backside the best he can before tossing it in the hamper. He gets back into bed, leaning against the headrest as Samatoki reaches over to the bedside table for a cigarette. There’s the familiar flick of the lighter before Samatoki’s blowing smoke into the already stuffy bedroom.
Samatoki sits back to lean his head against Ichiro’s shoulder, taking another drag of his cigarette. This might be as close as they get to cuddling.
“How ya’ feeling?” Samatoki asks, his cheek warm as it presses into Ichiro’s shoulder.
“Really good,” He answers honestly.
Samatoki hums, smoking his cigarette.
Ichiro wishes he could have this all the time, sharing a bed with Samatoki is nice, even more so now that they’re intimate with each other. They haven’t been dating for a very long time, but they’ve known each other longer which begs Ichiro to ask the question. It feels right , especially after how far they’ve come.
“It’d be nice not to have to come all the way out to see you,” Ichiro begins.
Samatoki frowns, “You sayin’ you don’t wanna see me?”
“No!” Ichiro immediately reassures him. “No, I’m saying I wanna see you...more..”
Nervous, Ichiro watches as Samatoki stops the cigarette before his lips, thoughtful, “Is this way your way of asking to live together?”
To calm his nerves, Ichiro inhales deeply, “Yeah.”
Samatoki sits up to stub out his cigarette before turning to Ichiro, face unreadable but Ichiro can tell he’s trying not to smile, “That’s not your most terrible idea.”
Samatoki kisses him, and the lingering taste of cigarettes have never tasted sweeter.