Wakasa has fucked around, literally and figuratively, in a lot of places—in his partner's house or car; on his bike; in dark alleyways; in bathrooms, and more.
But...he's never done anything in a convenience store before.
So this is exciting.
Though they weren't out in the aisles of the store and were instead in the staff room (at Takemichi’s stuttered insistence), the fact still stood that he was in a convenience store , getting his dick sucked with the best blue eyes he’s ever seen tearing up just above it.
Takemichi's uniform was a mess. His pants were gone and were in a crumpled heap nearby, shirt and apron still on but just as wrinkled. The front of the shirt was see-through around the collar area, sweat and some saliva that dripped down earlier soaking the cotton entirely.
Luckily, his apron was long enough to touch the floor as he knelt, but it barely did anything to give the package between his legs any modesty as some precum hit the cloth, showing the outline. His face was sweaty and pink, Wakasa's earlier thrusts too sudden for his virgin mouth and limbs too awkward and unable to hold his weight up, causing them to take some time to adjust to this current arrangement.
Although they found a proper pace and position, Takemichi still struggled to breathe; still, he persisted. Even so, Wakasa could feel Takemichi's neck and jaw tensing around him; his hands, shakily grasping at his knees, weren't doing any better.
But he was doing so good. So, so good. Wakasa should help him out.
Without warning, he takes Takemichi’s head in his hands and thrusts into that tight, hot cavern, going deep in the first jerk. A loud, visceral groan bubbles from the base of his throat, both at the feeling and the sight before him.
Takemichi bent forward slightly, upper body going limp after Wakasa's thrust. The change in posture had him spreading his knees on the floor, giving Wakasa a clear view of his leaking dick and the small, yellow-orange thick thing just below his balls, moving in and out of his puckered asshole. Beneath him, the floor gained an additional shine to it, the moisture of his legs' sweat, his precum, and their stolen edible lube piling into a puddle.
"Is this okay for you?"
"M-mhm," Takemichi stutters, lips struggling around the length between them deliciously. "I can do it."
"Good," Wakasa pets his head. He thrusts slowly—in, out, in, out. Takemichi tears up, but he moves with him, looking pleased as Wakasa controls their pace and his movement. Gradually, Takemichi started moving his head on his own, pacing a little faster than what Wakasa set at the start.
The change makes Wakasa chuckle. "That's right, keep it up, sweet cheeks. You finally got it." Wakasa crows, moving back slightly and caressing Takemichi's tear-stained cheeks. He grabs a thumb-full of it and brings it to his lips, licking and sucking. "So sweet, so beautiful. All for me."
Takemichi's eyelids fall halfway across his eyes, partially hiding the lustful and giddy haze in them. He hums questioningly, voice muffled as he asks, "I doin' o'ay?"
Wakasa groans, unable to stop himself from bucking his hips forward once more. "Ngh. F-fuck, you're doing more than okay. The best," he breathes out, the vibrations and Takemichi's breath stimulating his dick, the worker's throat squeezing around its head as it constricts and releases to breathe. "Your mouth is so perfect for me,” he inhales, part in reverence and part in awe.
“Just wanna stay here forever."
Surprisingly, Takemichi moans, eyelids fluttering shut entirely as his hand moves faster, hips wiggling at the entrance and exit of the object in him. "Wa-Waka-san…"
The sound of his new nickname through his dick makes Wakasa growl lowly in possessiveness. "Is that what you want, huh? Wanna warm my cock with your pretty little mouth?" The words spill from Wakasa's lips without much thought, his hips moving back and forth slowly.
Dirty talk was always something he did naturally; it was something that he couldn’t help even back then. “Here, right when anyone can just come in anytime and hear us? Is that something you want to happen?” He rolls his hips, dick following. Takemichi mewls and Wakasa sighs, a softer growl bubbling from him. “ Hey . Answer me. You’re gonna make me think you actually want people to see you. We can’t have that, you know.” Takemichi sniffles; from his words or the blissed-out look in his eyes, Wakasa wasn’t sure. Although his demeanor has calmed down lately, the aggressiveness in him simmering down to a soft boil, his filth still came out in waves, voice relatively flat as his thoughts were too muddled to stay in his mind alone and needing a release of its own as his body operated on instinct.
His grip on Takemichi's hair remains tight, and he takes pleasure in the way the older man falls more relaxed as his upper body is manhandled. "Hey. Is that what you want, honey? You want me to ruin you?" Voice even, conversational, and curious, he tilts Takemichi's head a bit higher, mindful not to make him accidentally graze his length with his teeth.
What a good boy.
Wakasa sighs in pleasure. "Want me to make your mouth mine?” He asks, voice lowering, but even. “Pump you silly with my cum until all you can smell from your breath is me? Is that it?”
He gives a deep thrust as he punctuates his words, and Takemichi gives a full body shiver that goes straight to both their dicks. Wakasa watches the hand between his legs stutter, his leaking prick curved to his stomach, flushed so red and looking abused even without being touched.
"Come on, Takemichi, what do you want?" Wakasa gives shallow thrusts into Takemichi's heat, dick barely leaving it. "Want me to fuck your throat raw? Scrape your insides here," he lodges himself deeper into the said area, groaning loudly at its tightness yet speaking casually like one does about the weather, "Or do you want me to fuck your cheeks stupid, see how it stretches over me?"
The delinquent pulls out slightly, hissing as the cold air hits the parts of his shaft previously encased in warm saliva. He then rolls his hips left to right, watching as the force from his movements pushes the head of his dick to push Takemichi’s entire head, the organ bulging under the skin of his cheeks as mentioned. Mouth slightly hanging open wider at the angle, Takemichi laps at whatever he can mindlessly yet vigorously, not moving away as much as possible.
Like this, Wakasa can see more of the inner machinations of Takemichi's mouth, and he moans with desperation, shocking himself. He watches as Takemichi’s pink, textured tongue tries to swirl around the bulbous end of his cock, whining when he can't. Pearly white teeth, small like their owner, shining with wetness even though the cold air was also passing through and within him. The cashier attendant's head twitches as he tries his best to lick up Wakasa's length like a treat but eventually gives up, choosing to purse his lips around him and suck instead.
“You look so good darling. Good for me,” Wakasa breathes out, throat drying and mouth salivating in tandem. “ God .”
He watches him a bit longer. It's a great sensation, Wakasa admits, but he's starting to miss the heat.
Without warning, he shoves his penis back in, breathing in relief as sweet, sweet heat wraps around him once again. Takemichi hums, one hand rising to grasp at the new black pants Wakasa donned as a member of the Black Dragons.
For a few moments, Wakasa doesn't say anything, simply basking in the heat warming his cock. It was heavenly; the way Takemichi's throat tried to suck him in, the smoothness of his mouth a contrast to the veiny bumps on his length. “Close your mouth,” Wakasa hums.
Takemichi does as follows, and Wakasa throws his head back with a loud groan. More heat was on him now, and Takemichi seemed to be trying to suck instinctively, providing that tightness Wakasa loved. He lifts his head back, tilting it back down and using one hand to push his hair back from his eyes before holding Takemichi again.
But then, the dark-haired man whined, and Wakasa refocused back on him.
"You need to speak up, Takemichi," he coos, voice rough with lust and the few strings of control he has left. "Tell me what you want."
Takemichi groans, legs falling wider. His hand looks so small between his legs, so far from Wakasa's eyes. " You ," Takemichi gasps out, a new batch of tears falling. "I want you, Waka-san." His hand thrusts faster, the thing in his ass disappearing and reappearing faster and faster. "Want you, please . I need—"
He takes in the surprise that decorated Takemichi's face as he was pulled to the pubes decorating the base of his dick, eyes shooting open. Then, the same blue eyes roll to the back of his head slightly, mouth relaxing and jaw dropping; he gives out a loud sob and a whine, the sound resounding in the empty staff room, Wakasa's mixing in with it. He gags, body twitching involuntarily, but he swallows.
"Be careful with your words now, " Wakasa warns, legs tensing up. "Do you know what you're asking of me, sugar? That's a big step forward." He laughs softly, stamping down on the urge to break this boy, to ruin him so he would only ever see, think of Wakasa from now on.
The dark-haired man keens, nuzzling the coarse pubic hairs his nose was buried in. Wakasa groans and releases a shaky exhale.
"Want you to fe' good, Waka-san," he slurs, voice scratchy. He sucks and the younger man groans. " Need Waka-san."
The wholehearted desire to pleasure him makes something in Wakasa's heart soften, and he loosens his grip on Takemichi slightly. The dark haze in his head, the one taking reason from him, began to clear up; however, the lust remained, growing stronger with affection and, funny enough, turning him a bit softer while further heating him up. A weird phenomenon, a contradiction in and of itself.
But Wakasa guesses that anything that had anything to do with Takemichi defied logic—a crybaby with a resolve that bullets couldn't shatter, a countenance that was too weak for his strong will. A man who drove Wakasa to the wall, making him more bloodthirsty for fights, more eager to prove himself and shed blood—yet also made Wakasa want to treat him with gentleness he wasn't used to showing or feeling. To keep him close and stay close by him, in noise and in silence. To visit a convenience store far from home to spend more time with him: a lowly cashier attendant he met by chance one night after a tedious fight and has been considered as someone special after.
To protect with the same things he used to hurt.
Wakasa didn't want to name it, this feeling, this... thing . But whatever it was, it made perfect sense that his effect would transfer over to other things.
Tenderly, he runs one hand through Takemichi's dark locks. "Takemichi," he grunts softly, noting how Takemichi continues to thrusts slowly and shallowly inside himself, "Are you sure about this?"
He brings his other hand to Takemichi's face, wiping tears and sweat off. He's so much older, and so much smaller. Like a precious small animal that kids would scramble to protect and treasure; like their first pet. And Wakasa feels as if sometimes, Takemichi should be treated as such: preciously . Carefully. Lov—
He was no delinquent like him. Violence and hurt weren’t part of his norm, nor would Wakasa want it to be. Not him.
(Please, not him.)
Takemichi hums, tongue swirling around Wakasa's penis with more ease now as he was positioned better. "I can take i'," he leans into Wakasa's hand on his forehead, moving slightly away from his pubes. "Want you, fee' good."
He stops his licking and smacks his lips around Wakasa's dick, not unlike a kiss. He looks up to him after, eyes a little clearer but blazing nonetheless, and smiles, teeth buried under his lips. "Tru's you. Waka-sa' wu'n hurt me."
Wakasa's breath is knocked out of him. The air in his lungs is replaced with something like it, but better —sweeter, warmer . His heart squeezes in his chest, but he feels no pain, only…happiness.
He lets out a quick chuckle. "You really are something else," he says, knowing his eyes must be wide with the same amazement and interest he's shown his way all those months ago—unchanging and only really growing softer, fonder through time.
Takemichi's smile turns him on and melts him down all at once, heat rushing through every vein in his body in a way that fires Wakasa up and wants him to stay grounded here with him. Wakasa pushes Takemichi’s hair as if slicking it back. Against his kind actions, he grunts. "Tell me if it gets too much, okay?"
And as Takemichi nods enthusiastically, dribble finally dripping down the side of his lips and down to his shirt and the floor, Wakasa feels his last string of control snap .
The dark-haired man gags loudly, the sound of his saliva climbing up and being forced back down his throat bouncing off the walls as Wakasa fucks his mouth in earnest. The younger man held his head like a ball, squishing it slightly to keep him in place; fingers slightly pressing downwards to keep Takemichi’s jaw steady.
Takemichi must be treated gently; he isn't from Wakasa's world. He can't expect Takemichi to take roughness the same way he does, similar to how a fish takes to water. He can tease him all he wants, but he will never hurt him. Never introduce pain to him, never want him to grow used to it as a new normal.
He said it himself: he trusted Wakasa not to hurt him.
That's. That's a lot. For whatever they have going on, that's a lot. Wakasa didn't want to break that trust.
But Takemichi looks so good like this—so roughed up , hair balled tightly in some of Wakasa's strong fingers, saliva gushing from his mouth as he tried to keep the said orifice close as much as he could, keeping Wakasa in him.
He wants to fuck him up so bad .
Wakasa fucks into his mouth like he was in a fight, adrenaline rushing through his veins as his hips snap to a rhythm only he can hear and feel. He can feel the clumps of hair in his hands being pulled from their roots, can feel the scalp being tugged with them. When he feels Takemichi’s jaw has locked, he puts all his fingers in his hair, gripping harsher.
Takemichi has begun to gasp violently, Wakasa's cock plunging deeper into his throat as he's kept closer, nose brushing against his pubic bone every time Wakasa pulled him in or pushed into him. When Wakasa pulled out, it was never too far; Takemichi still remained close against his base, only really leaving a few centimeters of open skin before he took it back in again.
He's choking, he’s choking so loud and he’s sobbing and shaking but he doesn't tell Wakasa to stop—he keeps his one hand on him, clenching around his pant leg as if ready to rip it. And his other hand, the hand holding the yellow-orange object buried in him:
It was moving in time with Wakasa's hips. Takemichi’s hand must be aching and tired; nevertheless, he persisted, trying to stay in sync with the abuse his mouth was receiving. It made Wakasa think how similar it was to something else. As if it were—
"Fuck, that's hot," Wakasa huffs, using one hand to stroke Takemichi's face, the other still holding his pushed-back hair. "So hot, god. Shit. Taking me so well." God, and he was his first? Wakasa is so blessed, holy shit .
He doesn’t know where to look, not anymore. His mind is stitching up the view for him, connecting the dots and placing an image of Takemichi on his back, mouth open just like now but with nothing in it. Legs up but still bent. And between his legs, something thicker, something redder, more alive.
Wakasa lets out another growl, hips snapping with enough force to feel something pull on his hamstrings. Yet nothing else matters as he pants, focused on one thing only.
"Yes," Takemichi keens, pleased. "Yes, Waka-sha'. Ye—hngh, ah!" His eyes roll back to the back of his head halfway, clawing at Wakasa's leg until the pants fall down entirely. Takemichi's nails dig into his bare thigh, and Wakasa both hisses and thrusts harder, faster, feeling the pain go straight to his dick.
Wakasa's view is starting to sweat, the liquid dripping into his eyes along with some strands of hair. The cold air of the room does nothing to soothe the burning of his skin, nor that of Takemichi's. Yet he can clearly see Takemichi's face still, so debauched and lax under his power. Can see how his hand between his legs began to stutter, twitching and slowly reaching away from the object in his ass and moving to his aching, abandoned dick.
" Don't ," Wakasa growls before he can think, a crease finally appearing between his brows and lips twisting into a snarl as another expression besides contentment, amusement, and calmness takes over. "Don't touch yourself. Not yet."
Takemichi whines and sobs . He paws at his pants, desperate.
The sight and sound bring Wakasa closer to the edge. "Go back to the candy, darling," he tries to coo, trying to relax his face, voice too tight to sound soothing. "You trust me right?"
"Then listen to me. Don't touch your dick, not until I say so." He grunts, hips not pausing in the least. "My reward will be worth it, I promise."
He sees his words of a reward makes it through Takemichi's cloudy focus, and smiles when the elder nods.
Wakasa moves the hand away from Takemichi's face back to his hair, and with a violent grip, he fucks harder into his mouth, relishing the way he continues to choke over his dick. A whole blob of saliva drips down his chin as he coughs, snot and tears falling into his mouth and mixing with the tang of Wakasa's cock.
The delinquent feels his release creeping up on him and he puts his all into chasing it, meeting it halfway instead of waiting for it to come to him. His grunts are getting louder, and with him were Takemichi's whines and moans, the shlick-shlick of the candy in his ass and the dick in his mouth creating a nasty symphony Wakasa will hear for nights .
And finally, finally , he cums.
His toes curl in his boots as he loses balance slightly. He brings Takemichi close for stability, sensitive as Takemichi's throat constricts around his dick that was still pumping out string after string of jizz. His vision pricks with darkness and spots of light as he rides out his release, one so intense he feels his stomach clench and his legs quiver.
Takemichi swallows blissfully, eyelids drooping close as he milks everything Wakasa was giving him and humming pleasurably as he does so.
Wakasa releases his grip on his hair slightly, hands remaining close as he smoothed down the dark locks. As his orgasm found its end, he massaged Takemichi’s scalp, smiling as he heard him sigh.
His dick was spent. Slowly, the delinquent regains his bearings—things aren't over just yet.
Disoriented from the vicious fucking his throat experienced and the sudden darkness from closing his eyes, Takemichi's head spins as his eyelids flutter back open, the world tilting off its axis as he's pushed down on his back. He squeaks at the movement and grunts at the force of hitting the floor reverberates up and down his spine, but he has no time to react, because just as fast as he was pushed—
Wakasa pounced .
With one hand, the delinquent pulled both of Takemichi's thin wrists above his head, pinning him down. Though younger, Wakasa was bigger and longer and every way, making it easy for him to keep that one arm up as he made his way down Takemichi's front. Using his other hand, he pushes his knees up together, exposing his ass entirely.
Takemichi gasps, embarrassed, but moans right after as Wakasa sucks on the candy sticking out of him, licking his sensitive rim as he did so. He trashes violently in his hold, head slamming down to the floor left and right as Wakasa thrusts the candy in and out of him using his mouth. Takemichi can feel himself clenching and unclenching, suddenly feeling so full and so empty in one breath,
Then, his other hand comes up a little higher from his mouth to fondle Takemichi's heavy balls, so tight with the need to let go that Takemichi screams .
" Waka-san !" Takemichi coughs out, throat raw. "Please, Waka-san, it's too much—"
"You can take it, baby," Wakasa grunts, slurping obscenely as he continues sucking the candy and pushing it with his tongue. His legs are shaking beneath him, but he persists, wanting to make do with his promise. "You're doing so good, keep it up."
Takemichi lets out another sob, kicking at the air feebly when Wakasa's cold hand grasps the base of his burning dick. Still, Wakasa doesn't stop; his mouth fucks him from one end as Takemichi jerks into his hand, lost in pleasure and passion.
Wakasa eats everything up like a dying man; he could feel his dick stirring back to life at all the noises he was hearing right now, the sight waking up the beast in him that was just starting to slumber again. Takemichi's taste, along with the candy, was just the icing on the cake.
God , he could do this forever.
But not now. Maybe another time. His sweet thing has been so good, he had to make sure he sees his end of the deal.
Wakasa places a hand on Takemichi's belly and pushes down on it, urging the muscles there to contract downwards. At the same time, he gives a long, loud suck on the candy in his mouth, and in one go, it slides out and pops into his mouth, nearly choking him as it hits the back of his throat.
Reacting quickly, he pushes the candy around the walls of his mouth and brings it closer to his back molars. He laps at it as he sucks on Takemichi's bare, twitching asshole, lapping up the remaining lube, candy flavoring, and Takemichi's raw taste. He groans into the tight entrance, tongue prodding through the ring of muscle while pressing harder on Takemichi's stomach to get more of whatever he can inside.
Above him, Takemichi is hiccuping, so overstimulated but not enough . His vision was starting to darken with spots; his release was so near and yet so fucking far that it was driving him crazy with the need to trash around. He felt so good , feeling like he was standing in a great fire that was burning him from the inside out, pleasuring him and agitating him all at once.
He doesn't know what he wants exactly; he was so consumed by the need to cum, to let go, mind so hazy that all he could do was whine and babble, "please please please Waka-san—please."
Wakasa doesn't say anything, but he hears him loud and clear. Without further delay, he comes off his asshole to wrap his lips around his dick, and just as Takemichi hissed at the sudden coldness and emptiness just a little further down—
Takemichi's head slams onto the floor as his back arches off it. Wakasa sucks him with the same vigor he had as he sucked the candy out: greedy, dangerously, excitedly . The said candy still in his mouth added a different kind of sensation to it all; it moved around as Wakasa sucked and licked him, bumping random parts of his dick as it swished around with his saliva and tongue.
With everything going on, Takemichi doesn't last long. A few harsh, quick sucks and Takemichi's mouth falls open in a silent scream, body convulsing as he sees some fucking stars .
Wakasa doesn't let him go, holding him as his lilac eyes never leave Takemichi's blue, keeping him down with his hands and mouth. Takemichi sobs as he rides out his orgasm, legs twitching uselessly and painfully above them. His stomach contracts as his release tides over, and he gulps, holding Wakasa's stare as the delinquent swallows it all.
Afterward, Wakasa pops off his dick and chews on the candy in his mouth. He flashes a smirk towards Takemichi, wiping the bottom of his lower lip. "Tastes good."
Takemichi eeps. The red from overexertion on Takemichi's cheeks turns brighter with embarrassment at the sight. Tiredly and shly, feels his dick twitch with interest again.
"See, what'd I tell you?" Wakasa shows the last bit of hard candy in his mouth, pushing it out with his tongue before chewing on it and swallowing it. He sticks his tongue out after, the yellow-orange tint on it unmistakable and upper lip shining with spit and lube.
He grins and bites his tongue, fangs shining. "Told you wouldn't regret trusting me." He licks his teeth and upper lip. "Good job, sugar."
There's something heavier there. Something that makes him suddenly sentimental, heavy with emotion. Wakasa doesn't want to think about it right now.
Instead, he focuses on how Takemichi sags with fatigue but manages to weakly slap his thigh in embarrassment. Wakasa laughs and grabs his shirt, spitting on it to wet it before wiping them down.
Takemichi pouts the whole time but doesn't turn away. He eventually falls asleep in Wakasa's arms, wrapping an arm around whatever he can of him, relaxing, trusting him.
His dick was flaccid, but something warm coils in his belly still. Wakasa kisses his forehead before bringing him with him to the couch.
"Next time," Wakasa whispers, his smile mischievous but eyes so unbearably endeared as he eyes Takemichi's sleeping face. He gets a lollipop from his pants, unwraps it, and pops it in his mouth. "Let's try it in the aisles. Properly . No hiding.” He grins. “What do you say, huh?"
Takemichi scrunches his nose as if he heard him, Wakasa laughs and brings him closer.
There's a next time. And more after that.
He doesn't want to name what they are; not now, and not soon.
Nevertheless, he admits this: that realization, that "next time" as a concept alone , no surety to what will happen exactly then besides knowing it will happen and repeatedly, for a long while at that—it makes him happier than anything.
Takemichi is weird. Makes him weird.
But Wakasa likes him all the same. He sees that being a long-term thing too.
(Man, hopefully, nobody comes into the convenience store right now. He's so gonna fucking kick the person who'd dare ruin this moment.
Nobody does. But someone does look at Wakasa with disgust as he brings a sleeping Takemichi out, hanging off his back and the stench of sex so very obvious in an empty parking lot.
After he brings Takemichi home, he subtly but cheerfully regales him with his tale of beating up a random guy with his feet alone all while Takemichi slept on. Takemichi pets him with amazement and concern. )