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There’s a certain level of familiarity that comes with five years of marriage. Though, Tooru figures that their case might be special. An outlier, really, considering that they’ve been together in one way or another since the day he was born. Not many people can say that they’ve been by their soulmate — cheesy, yes. He’s aware. He also doesn’t care. — ’s side for as long as they can remember.
And it’s a fact. They’ve dumped buckets of dirt and worms on one another. Innocently bathed together, too. Learned to spike and serve and set. Sat side-by-side in detention and thrown paper airplanes at each other while the on-duty teacher wasn’t watching and had their first kiss, their first time, in Hajime’s childhood bedroom as well. On the same worn cartoon sheets that served as the safe zone when they played the floor is lava and the same tattered anime posters, the character’s smiles faded and aged, bearing witness to the next step in their relationship.
Yes, they have a certain level of familiarity after five years of marriage and, however many years, however many lives (because Tooru highly doubts that this is their first), that they’ve spent together. And that familiarity extends to something comforting and relaxing and real when they set about having somewhat-lazy-somewhat-passionate-wholeheartedly-in-love sex after a long day at work, tumbling into the freshly washed sheets and making out like a pair of infatuated teenagers who are horny beyond belief but also terrified of going too far.
Fear isn’t a variable of concern in their case, thankfully. They both just really like kissing. In general and definitely one another, sliding their mouths together, hands flying every which way, gripping and tugging and pulling at whatever they can.
Tooru’s eyes darken when Hajime grabs his wrist, kisses his palm and drags it down his neck, his chest, his stomach, all the way down to his own cock. He places it on his hardened bulge, encourages Tooru to cup him more firmly, and pulls back just an inch to whisper, “See what you do to me?”
And then it’s all over. Because what is Tooru supposed to do when the love of his life makes such a bold admonition, breath hot against his lips? From there, it’s only a matter of minutes before they’re undressed, Tooru locking his arms around his husband’s neck, engaging him in a brutally searing kiss and bringing Hajime with him as he falls back onto their mattress. Hajime’s hands slam down on either sides of his head, eyes also dilated and full of lust, and Tooru urgently spreads his legs like it’s a matter of national security, demands Hajime be faster with prep. His wanton moans stir the other up even further and eventually they decide it’s good enough, as much as they’re willing to wait, and Hajime pushes deep inside, thrusting long and hard, just the way Tooru likes it.
Hajime grabs his fringe, tugs his head back and kisses his forehead before crushing their mouths together once again. In return, Tooru grips his shoulders, heels locking behind his husband’s tailbone and fingers digging deep enough into his soft skin that Hajime’s definitely going to have long and angry scratches down the expanse of his back tomorrow morning. Scratches that’ll cause him to wince when he moves. Scratches that’ll earn him whistles and catcalls when he changes into his uniform with the rest of the team in vicinity. Scratches that’ll remind him of how deeply Tooru loves him. How possessive his husband is. And how he’s also branded his own claim on Tooru with dark bruises covering his chest, his throat, the insides of his thighs. Evidential remnants of making love day after day after day after day.
Tooru grins when Hajime thrusts forward with enough force to drive the headboard back into their wall, gently tap against the cracking and crumbling plaster. Large rifts and breaks spiderwebbing from one end of the wall to the other. Physical reminders of the uncountable times they’ve gotten a bit too excited.
That’s, thankfully, not the case today.
Despite the fact that they’re raving to go — the strength Hajime is putting into his thrusts fortifying the sentiment — he eventually settles them into a slower pace. Really takes his time gliding his hands all over the expanse of his husband’s body as if Tooru’s a rare treasure that deserves to be examined.
Tooru moans, loud and breathy when the callused tips of Hajime’s fingers brush over his nipples, the rough texture against his sensitive skin causing goosebumps to rise and the hair on his arms to stand and he kisses the other’s shoulder before tilting his head back and sighing in satisfaction.
“Love you,” Hajime says, thrusting inside of him again and again. He leans forward to gather Tooru into his arms and presses his mouth to the front of his throat. The side. The edge of Tooru’s jaw. His mouth. Over and over and over again. “I love you so much.”
“Me, too,” Tooru gasps, eyes fluttering closed when Hajime brushes against his sweet spot. He bites down on Hajime’s shoulder, draws a muffled groan out of the other, and smiles in response before mouthing over the same spot. Kissing and licking and digging his teeth in again to make sure his mark survives the night. “Love you so much.”
The thrusts become more rhythmic after that. A strong constant snap of Hajime’s hips pushing in and out at a consistent pace. Not too fast, not too slow, and Tooru feels himself growing closer to the edge bit by bit.
Years ago, he might have felt embarrassed for not lasting too long, but with the way Hajime is throbbing inside of him, the look in his eyes fond and adoring and affectionate and so in love, he doesn’t care. All that matters is that his husband knows him well enough to bring him pleasure in a matter of minutes and that his body is enough to do the same for Hajime.
He reaches up, fists his fingers into the short hair at the base of Hajime’s head and pulls their mouths together, murmuring sweet nothings and dreamy everythings. He urges Hajime to fuck him faster, harder, to make him cum and Hajime growls as he obeys, threads their fingers together and turns his head to the side to kiss his husband more deeply. Tooru sobs in return, digs his fingertips into Hajime’s scalp, legs shaking and shuddering and locking tighter behind his waist and just as his eyes start to roll back, the fire in the pit of his stomach about to implode into a three-alarm catastrophe, his diaphragm violently contracts.
The next noise he makes, straight into Hajime’s mouth, is choppy and shaky and loud and miles away from the expected moan of lust-filled pleasure. Of thoroughly satisfied release. The sound echoes through the otherwise empty room and they both freeze, eyes wide in surprise.
“Did you just—” Hajime starts and Tooru flushes before scowling in a way that rivals the dirty looks Hajime gives people when they’re being particularly stupid.
“No,” he says, though the statement is immediately refuted when he hiccups again, chest lurching and aching with the hitch of his breath.
He feels a series of tremors course through him. Not caused by his own body, but Hajime’s instead and he glares up at his husband who is looking at him with the unadulterated elation of a child on Christmas morning, desperately fighting back the laughter threatening to erupt from between his lips.
“Do it again,” Hajime says slightly breathless as he childishly pokes Tooru’s side.
“I can’t do it on command,” Tooru protests, rubbing over his chest where the intensity of his last bout has caused a certain ache to spawn.
“Come on, just try,” Hajime presses and for a moment Tooru really questions the people who think Hajime’s the smarter one of the pair. Hajime reaches forward and pinches Tooru’s nose in the same way Tooru does when he’s consciously trying to be a piece of shit. “You can do it.”
For some reason, and Tooru has absolutely no idea why, he tries. He stares up at Hajime, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tries to raise another hiccup up through his throat.
Seconds pass and nothing happens so he shrugs at the other. Grabs his shoulders and pulls him down once again. “Guess they went away. Hurry up, I wanna go to sleep.”
“Romantic,” Hajime snorts but he obeys, nonetheless.
Falling back into pace isn’t a struggle. Hajime slots their lips together, licks into his husband’s mouth, and Tooru can feel his orgasm building once again. He’s groaning and moaning and plays the perfect role of a back-alley whore as he generously compliments Hajime for his looks. Tells him how hot and sexy and perfect he is and how much he loves him, draws those pleased grunts out of his husband, and just as he’s starting to sob from the near onslaught of pleasure, fingers curled around the back of Hajime’s neck to hold him close, he hiccups straight into the back of other’s throat.
They immediately freeze once again but this time, Hajime makes no attempt to hold back the amused snicker that inevitably escapes his lips.
“Fuck y—” Tooru starts only for his entire body to jerk off the mattress as he hiccups one more time. It’s interspersed with a breathless moan, the movement causing Hajime’s cock to accidentally rub his sweet spot, swollen and aching for release. He blinks, cheeks reddening in mortification as he glares at his husband.
Hajime’s entire body is raking with the intensity of his suppressed laughter and Tooru straightens his left leg before bringing his heel down on the other’s tailbone. He supplements the action by grabbing Hajime by the front of his hair, ruthlessly tugging at the flattened spikes in a manner that is less sexy and more juvenile, and the familiar action only causes his husband to snigger even louder. His boisterous laughter echoes through the otherwise silent room and he leans forward to kiss Tooru on his forehead, his nose, his mouth in delight.
“I’ll leave,” Tooru glowers when they pull away to breathe and Hajime presses their foreheads together. His threat his hollow, however, and Hajime sees right through his best friend. Instead, he possessively tightens his hold on Tooru’s body and looks down at him half fondly and half mischievously.
“And go where?” he asks, rocking his hips forward just enough that Tooru is forced to draw in a shaky breath, unable to bite back the lilted whimper that escapes his lips as Hajime starts to rub circles into the sides of his waist. “You haven’t even cum yet.”
“Then get on with it,” Tooru snaps, though there’s no heat to his tone. Instead, it comes out as a mournful plead infused with yet another hiccup.“I’m not getting any younger.”
“What’s the magic word?” Hajime teases, snapping his hips forward once again. Tooru sees stars, some on the backs of his eyelids as they involuntarily flutter shut, others floating around Hajime’s head when he opens his eyes.
He leans up, tries to grab his husband’s head once again, but this time Hajime is faster. He threads their fingers together and slams their clasped hands down on either sides of the Tooru’s head, grinning widely as he starts to rock back and forth achingly slow.
Tooru heaves a loud gasp mixed with a sob. Everything inside of him is burning, feels like it’s been set alight, and the sentiment only intensifies when Hajime kisses the sensitive spot under his ear. Hajime gives another thrust and he sucks in a deep breath, cursing wildly. “Iwa-chan, I swear to God—”
“Swear all you want. I won’t know what to give you until you ask for it,” Hajime replies simply, voice steady yet low as he leans forward and peppers kisses down the side of Tooru’s jaw. A last minute revision of his words causes him to quickly amend with, “Nicely, though. You have to ask nicely.”
“Iwa-chan.”
“Tooru.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Takes one to know one.” Hajime raises a brow, eyes sparkling in amusement, obviously pleased to be the shithead capable of getting under the other’s skin for once. Tooru groans both in annoyance and pleasure when his husband starts to alternate between rubbing their noses together and kissing the edge of his jaw, hips circling between Tooru’s thighs. “Please, make me cum, Hajime. That’s it. That’s all you gotta say. Nice and easy.”
He usually isn’t averse to begging. It actually tends to happen naturally when they’re in the bedroom, but that’s the thing. It happens naturally. Not on command. And Tooru has the terrible habit of doing the opposite of what he’s told to do for reasons unexplainable.
Still, it seems like Hajime is dead-set on hearing him beg today and he desperately wants to cum so he can finally wrap himself in the other’s warmth and get some long desired sleep. And so despite his better judgement, he opens his mouth, starts to repeat Hajime’s dialogue verbatim, and that’s when his chest seizes and he hiccups again.
Hajime howls with laughter.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tooru grumbles, shoving at other’s shoulder. “Get out of me, you jerk.”
Hajime has the sense to look slightly apologetic as he pulls out, cock hard and flushed and aching for relief, though he still can’t seem to stop the onslaught of laughter coursing through his body. His wide shoulders quake with the intensity of each bout and he reaches out to grab Tooru’s hand. “Wait, baby, don’t leave. I’m sorry. I won’t laugh. Promise.”
His painful inability to stop laughing as he speaks has Tooru rolling his eyes.
“You can do whatever you want,” Tooru growls, sitting up to continue to pushing at Hajime until he’s sprawled on his back. He clambers on top of his husband, presses a hand to his chest to balance himself and sinks back down onto his cock.
They both hiss at the sensation and Hajime’s hands immediately fall down to Tooru’s hips, hold him steady as he starts to roll his hips. For a few minutes, the room is completely silent save for their twin groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin.
And then, just as he’s feeling his orgasm building for the third time in the evening, Tooru hiccups, yet again. He refuses to stop this time, however. Ignores the sound and the ache in his chest and instead settles both palms on Hajime’s chest. He locks his arms straight, uses the leverage to hasten his pace, but immediately regrets the decision when the hiccups start to come faster as well.
Hic, hic, hic. Loud and staccato through the room. Hajime pulls a pillow over his face, tries to hide the laughter that’s bursting out of him as Tooru savagely fucks himself on his cock, hips rising high and slamming down with finality every time. The hiccups continue to generously pour through his lips.
Hic, hic, hic.
“I’m gonna fucking die,” Hajime says, voice catching and interspersed with groans muffled by the pillow. “This shit’s something that deserves to be on YouTube.”
“YouTube would ban your naked hairy ass,” Tooru responds evenly between gasps, though he can’t fight back the smile that’s bursting over his face. Hic, hic, hic. “The police would show up to arrest you for public indecency and I’d let them take you.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You nearly punched the police officer when they tried to arrest me in high school,” Hajime says shakily before swearing under his breath.
“That’s because we had nationals coming up and I couldn’t lose my ace,” Tooru replies. It’s a lie and they both know it, grin at the memory of Tooru nearly getting himself arrested trying to defend Hajime’s honor, and know that the other is too even though they can’t see each another through the pillow.
“Besides, it wasn’t even your fault. It was Makki’s. Not that he deserved to get arrested, but I’d rather him than you.” Tooru’s face hurts from how hard he’s smiling now. His chest is burning from the onslaught of hiccups still escaping his mouth and he digs his nails into Hajime’s pecs to keep his balance. Hic, hic, hic. “But you’re right, though. I wouldn’t let them keep you — forever, at least. Maybe I’ll leave you in there for a day. Teach you a lesson for making fun of me.”
“Aw, baby, you’re so cruel,” Hajime replies, sucking in a deep breath and tilting his head back as Tooru slams down on his cock once again. The mattress squeaks with the force of their combined weight. “I can’t help that you’re cute.”
Apparently, it’s the right thing to say because Tooru sighs self-sufferingly before reaching over and snatching the pillow off his husband’s face.
“Goddammit, Iwa-chan,” he says, leaning forward to press their mouths together, hiccup straight into the other’s mouth as he picks up the pace, rolling his hips with more intent. Hic, hic, hic. “I fucking love you.”
Hajime sits up, thick arms curling around Tooru’s lower back to hold him steady. The sudden movement causes his cock to shift inside his husband, the angle pressing the head right against Tooru’s sweet spot, and Tooru moans languidly, eyes fluttering closed, his own arms wrapped around Hajime’s shoulders.
Hajime starts to thrust upwards, matches Tooru’s timing, and kisses him once again before his left hand glides up the ridges of his spine. He curls his fingers in the soft hair on the back of Tooru’s head and presses their foreheads together.
The hiccups are still coming but they’re both far too close and far too concentrated to care. Instead, Hajime peppers kisses along his jaw and down the front of his throat, stopping to lick a strip up the mottled column before turning his head to the side and biting down on Tooru’s ear.
“Come on, beautiful. Make me cum,” he whispers, voice gruff and gritty and guttural as he begins to jack Tooru off, hot breath caressing the other’s cheek. “You’re so gorgeous. So good for me. Come on.”
Tooru’s breath hitches and he slots their mouths together once again. Lets the other swallow everything he’s willing to give, sobs and moans and hiccups and all. He feels his body give a shallow twitch before being replaced by a more intense shudder. And he wails loudly when he feels the heat of Hajime’s release, thick and warm, thoroughly coating his swollen insides.
With his beloved satisfied, he sets on searching for his own. Looks for that final thrust that will push him over the edge. His fingers dig into Hajime’s shoulders, nails raising dark angry lines as they scramble against the other’s skin like ants out of a line. Hajime murmurs genuine praise against his throat, kisses it over and over again and allows himself to be used to bring Tooru over despite bordering on overstimulation.
They finally manage when Hajime twists his wrist just right, thumb rubbing over the sensitive slit as he nails Tooru’s prostate head-on.
Tooru cums with a languished moan, the intensity of two ruined orgasms compounding and allowing him to experience the most intensely delicious toe-curling release he’s had in a while. He collapses against Hajime like a rag doll immediately after, shivering and shaking and exhausted, and can’t even bring himself to grin like usual when Hajime pulls them back onto the bed.
He lays them on their sides, flaccid cock finally slipping out of Tooru as he turns the other so that they’re facing one another and presses a kiss to Tooru’s sweaty forehead.
“I love you,” Hajime murmurs, fingers delicately carding through Tooru’s ruffled hair, pushing it out of his eyes before collapsing into another fit of boisterous laughter when his husband opens his mouth to agree but hiccups instead.