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The smell of sunscreen, sweet pina colada and nauseating chlorine fill Yuma’s nostrils. The temperature is high enough for several people to be at the pool, most of them adults. There’s a few kids, sure, but they’re on their way out. The sun is slowly beginning to set and the resort staff are excited to close rooftop access for the evening. Yuma never got the hype around hotels by the sea having a pool. The beach is right there?
He can’t complain too much, because he gets to work full time during summers and he’s paid very well. He rotates between the first aid station, room service, and lifeguarding the pool on certain evenings.
The perks of being a lifeguard are low, but they’re high enough for Yuma to be content. He just needs to look hot and watch over idiots all day, yell ‘No running around the pool!’ a couple times and squirm around in his chair when cute people wink at him.
Today, he spots a group of friends near the lounging chairs. They keep glancing at him and giving each other knowing looks, giggling every so often. This can only mean two things: They think he looks silly, or he’s about to get someone’s number. A couple minutes go by and nothing happens, so Yuma stops looking at them.
The cycle keeps going for about an hour, and it’s only when the sun starts setting that something finally happens.
One member of the group of friends stands up from the lounging chair, sunscreen in hand and a sheepish expression on his face. He makes his way to Yuma with encouraging cheers from his friends, looking like he would rather be anywhere but where he is.
“Hey,” He starts, eloquently spoken, extremely distinguished, "Dude.” It gets Yuma’s attention immediately and his head whips to the side, only to be face to face with the guy who had stared at him the most. He’s got messy black hair that makes him look more bashful than he probably is, soft eyes and skin that’s used to trapping the sun. Yuma spends a little too much time staring at the pretty curve of his lips, but the guy doesn’t seem to notice.
“Can I help you?” He smiles, genuinely curious. He thinks knows where this is going.
“You know first aid or whatever, right?” The guy rolls his ankle and pushes wet hair out of his face, expectant. Yuma kind of wants to laugh. “Yeah, or whatever. Go on?” He still has to watch over the pool, so he tears his eyes away from the tall guy and his obvious sunburns.
“Can you check on my sunburns? They hurt really bad and I can’t reach them.” He sounds hopeful now, voice going an octave higher towards the end of his sentence.
Yuma really wants to say yes, and his shift is almost over. He really wants to say yes, and the first aid station is empty. He really wants to say yes, and his coworker is just sitting around on his phone, so he’s gonna say yes.
“Hey, Niki, switch with me for a sec?”
Niki looks up at Sunburn Boy then back at Yuma with a knowing, smug look, and he finishes typing a paragraph before replying. “Yeah.”
That’s all Yuma needs to leave his chair and have the embarrassed stranger follow him to the first aid kiosk.
“What’s your name, by the way? I need to write it down for the record.” Yuma lies through his teeth, hoping his intense stare convinces the boy.
“Jo. Just, Jo.” Ah.
“Cute name,” Yuma smiles, not writing down a single letter. “Thanks. Sit backwards on this chair, I’ll check you out.”
The pun is purposeful, but Jo doesn’t need to know that. As soon as he’s sat, Yuma eyes around his broad shoulders with a purpose, frowning when he notices the reddened skin.
He pulls a chair to sit behind him, shortening the distance between them. From here, he can smell Jo’s body wash and a hint of something stronger- Cardamom?
“Did you stay outside all day without sunscreen? What the hell happened?” Yuma takes the sunscreen from him and doesn’t wait for an answer, he just starts pressing a cold towel to his burns. He chastises Jo about the dangers of UV rays like a nagging wife.
“What the hell,” Jo blurts out, jolting in the chair. ”I’m so sorry. That really hurt.” He’s almost whining, how low is this guy’s pain tolerance?
“Tough shit, it’s either this or your skin falls off.” Yuma can’t even worry about his friends peering at them from across the pool, snickering to themselves.
Yuma’s fingers soften regardless, lightly applying aloe vera gel over the cracked skin. “There, there. Hold this tube for me? I need to go lower.”
Jo takes the tube of gel without a word, flinching as soon as Yuma trails his hands down his spine. “This part of your back seems alright.” He moves down to inspect his waist, and Jo tenses up.
“Does this hurt, Jo?” Yuma’s gaze floats around his body for any signs of pain; aside from his ears looking sunburnt as hell, there’s nothing indicating serious damage. If he drops his voice to a teasing whisper when asks him about his pain, nobody needs to know.
Jo seems frozen in place and unresponsive until he starts massaging the cold gel down his back again- Jo squirms away from the softness of his palm and lets out a startled moan.
“Mmn-”
“What?” Yuma blinks, both amazed and confused. The rooftop is quieter now, the low buzz of conversations from Jo’s friends by the chairs and a few overworked adults relaxing in the jacuzzi.
“Ow? I mean, it hurts a bit, sorry.”
This is where Yuma decides to fuck with him some more.
“I’m sorry, it’s gonna hurt a bit before it feels good.” He leaves Jo’s sensitive waist to apply the soothing gel on his toned arms instead, displeased with Jo’s lack of reaction.
“Could you lean forward a bit? I can’t get all the right spots when you’re sitting upright like this.” Yuma feels a little mean, taking advantage of a guy who doesn’t even know his name.
Jo accepts his request without giving it a second thought, back bending into a deep arch that would put the most experienced divers he knows to shame.
Jo flinches under his ministrations, Yuma’s fingers soften eventually, lightly smoothing over the cracked skin.
All jokes aside, these burns do look a bit painful. “I’m gonna need your room number so we can send up some complimentary soothing gel, sweetheart.”
He slips into his customer service savvy with ease, so focused on helping that he forgets Jo is a grown ass man. Jo stills, and Yuma rushes to correct himself. “Sorry. The first aid kiosk usually helps kids who trip or get water in their eyes.”
Yuma doesn’t hear anything else from him… Okay, weird. To be fair, he’d just toyed with him for the last thirteen minutes.
Jo nods very slowly, white knuckling the chair where Yuma can’t see. He’s so hard it hurts, tenting in his swim trunks and too mortified to turn around and thank him.
“Jo-kun?” The lifeguard chuckles, placing a gentle, cold hand on his shoulder.
“Oh-!” He jolts, nearly biting his tongue in shame. “Yeah? Sorry.”
“I need your room number, sir.” There’s teasing evident in his voice, and Jo kind of misses the caring tone he’d called him ‘sweetheart’ in.
“Can I have your name first? For the… um… staff survey?” He braves, stalling until he can think of something that’ll make his boner go down.
“It’s Yuma, sir. I can deliver the gel myself if it makes you feel better.”
“Yes,” Yes, Yuma in his room would make him feel better in more ways than one. “Thank you. It’s 603.”
“Perfect.” Jo exhales through his nose, thankful it’s over. However, Yuma has other plans.
“Alright, will you turn around for me so I can check your legs? If you’re okay with that.” Jo squeezes his eyes shut and wills all the blood in his body to go back up, imagining all sorts of horrors to get rid of it.
“Yeah of course, just- just give me a second.” He feels like a huge pervert. Yuma is taking time out of his day to check on injuries his own stupidity brought him, and all he can do in return is get so hard that it makes him nauseous.
Yuma takes the opportunity to go into the booth to write down Jo’s information, pretending he doesn’t notice the swelling in his shorts. It’s very cute, honestly. He’s flattered. A proud smile tugs at his lips, and he rummages around some more until Jo turns around on the chair.
“Um. Yuma? I’m ready.” He’s got his hands resting under his thighs and a stressed look on his face, trying his best to look at Yuma like he’s having normal thoughts.
“Awesome! The skin of your thighs might be more sensitive because it doesn’t see the sun as much as your shoulders do, so brace yourself.” Yuma teases him with his expression more than his words, raising a knowing eyebrow at Jo’s position.
Jo’s friends have also left the rooftop area by now, probably bored with the slow pacing of Jo’s little situation. It’s just Yuma, Jo’s half-hard dick, and the sounds of the city below them.
Jo lets Yuma sit across from him, breath stuck in his chest cavity to avoid making a single sound. He’s wound up so tight that his shoulders might lock, but he’s too scared of weirding Yuma out to care.
“Alright, I’ll touch you on the count of three.” Yuma’s hand hovers over his legs reassuringly, “One,” And then they’re on his skin.
Jo jolts, lips parting in a silent gasp. “What the hell? You said you’d go on three.”
“I was lying, sorry,” Yuma’s smile as he spreads Jo’s thighs is everything but apologetic.
“You just seem too nervous, Jo-kun. It’s my duty as hotel staff to help you have a relaxing stay.” The cruel smile is still on his pretty lips and Jo feels faint. “What else can I do for you?”
“Ah… Yes.” He can’t say anything but that- He’s sure his heavy mouth will betray him and he’ll end up asking Yuma for a life changing handjob instead of being normal. His hands clench uselessly at the armrests of the chair and he closes his eyes in anticipation, and Yuma can’t have that.
“You’re acting like I’m threatening you, sweetheart. Open your eyes and relax.” He murmurs, remembering the way Jo’s eyes had glazed over when he let the petname slip earlier.
“I am relaxed. I’m so relaxed, Yuma. I just want you to touch me.” he whispers, allowing himself to finally let out the words that have been sticking to his tongue like caramel.
He’s anything but relaxed right now. In fact, he’s so tense he might pull a muscle, all thanks to Yuma’s soft voice, his prying hands, and his mockingly sweet smile.
“I know you want me to touch you, I’m just having a lot of fun seeing you cower.” Yuma sasses, quickly scanning his surroundings to make sure they’ll be undisturbed.
“You’re mean, Yuma.”
“And you’d kill to have my ‘mean’ mouth on you.”
Yuma gets on his knees, hooks his fingers into Jo’s waistband with a finesse that leaves no room for shock, and then his walkie-talkie rings out into the tense silence of the rooftop.
“Yuma? Are you there? Some guy just yakked in the lobby.”
Yuma groans, reluctantly leaving Jo untouched and fully clothed. He runs a hand through his faded pink hair and unhooks the walkie talkie from his belt to answer it.
“And? What’s that gotta do with me?” Yuma spits, clearly not enthused about leaving Jo’s responsive body and cute face alone for a second. His temper makes Jo’s stomach feel funny, but that’s going to remain an inside thought until he’s ready to accept that he’s a bit of a freak.
“Where is Taki, anyways?”
“I dunno, his house? He clocked out early.”
Yuma’s face contorts with frustration, and Jo watches him argue through the walkie-talkie like a nosy house cat.
“What do you mean he clocked out early? His shift ends in five hours, and I’m almost done with mine.”
Thankfully, he seems just as upset about this as Jo is.
Jo tilts his ear towards him when he steps off to whisper into the device, but Yuma notices and shakes his head at him. Jo settles for eyeing the tightness of his uniform over his body, how the fabric clings to his waist… How the shorts he’s wearing are riding too high for Jo to handle… How his toned arms are gesturing at Jo… How he’s waving to get his attention… Jo’s eyes widen, reeling his focus back in..
“Huh?” He’s whisper-shouting from the kiosk while Yuma stands near the entrance of the rooftop, ready to book it.
‘Go to your room.’ Yuma mouths, slipping a wink into their exchange before he leaves. ‘I’ll join you.’
Jo promptly sits up from his seat, blood rushing back down his legs and making him momentarily dizzy. He really needs to go outside more. The thrumming between his ears quiets down to a buzz and he smooths down the front of his shorts before sauntering back to his floor.
Jo isn’t sure why he obeys. Yuma could be fucking with him, eager to tell his friends about an idiot at work who thought he had a chance with the lifeguard. He could also be just as needy for contact as he is, willing to jeopardize his job just to see Jo come apart by his hand.
His arousal overpowers his fears when he remembers just how sweetly Yuma had handled him, melodic and inviting while he enjoyed riling Jo up.
He’s gonna show up, probably. He considers leaving a keycard in his door, but Yuma literally works here. He’ll find a way to come in, whenever he does.
He can’t possibly leave Jo like this, horny, and ashamed, and craving the dominant undertones Yuma effortlessly carries himself with.
Jo showers, doesn’t try to jack off, and throws a bathrobe on.
He’s gotta show up.
Jo softly screams into his pillow, too sensitive to do anything about the semi-permanent hard-on Yuma has cursed him with. His back tingles with the aftermath of Yuma’s electric touch, the fibres of the sheets smoothing over the last traces of their encounter.
Jo wants to tear his hair out. He’s being absolutely pathetic over a boy he met just a few hours ago, but something about the mean glint in his eye makes Jo feel justified.
Jo props himself on the headboard and genuinely starts twiddling his thumbs, too anxious to even look at his phone. If he had checked it, however, he would have seen the message Harua had left him about coming back to their room with food.
He wouldn’t have jumped to his feet when the door opened with a soft click and he wouldn’t have rolled his eyes when Harua popped in with a steaming box of cheese pizza.
“What? It’s vacation food.” Harua sets the box down, eyeing Jo suspiciously.
“Thanks for the pizza.” Jo mumbles begrudgingly, snatching a slice that he wastes no time scarfing down.
“Uh-oh.” Harua kicks his flip flops to the side and joins Jo on the bed, propping his head up to showcase his interest. He scans his face for any trace of bliss, only finding vague emotional constipation. “You don’t look like someone who just got laid. What happened?”
Jo chews through his pizza like it owes him something, eyebrows pulled into a soft frown. “I think I got ditched. I can’t believe you put me up to this.” He digs an accusatory finger into Harua’s shoulder, but Harua knows it’s harmless.
“Uh huh. What did the hot lifeguard say to you, Jo?”
“We got interrupted, and he told me to go to my room and that he’d join me.” He recalls miserably, letting his head fall into his hands. This is what he’s become. A pervert who acts miserable over some potential head. Unbelievable.
“Aww. Baby’s first blue balls.” Harua pats his shoulder with minimal amounts of sympathy and goes to eat his own slice of pizza. It’s amazing, the nerve he has to talk to Jo like this sometimes.
“In any case, I’ll be going out tonight. You have the room to yourself and whoever you bring to bed.” He nods solemnly, putting a hand over his heart. Then, in true Harua fashion,
“I can also take care of your balls for you before I go.” He’s bending down to lace his shoes on and Jo knows he doesn’t mean it, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it and getting ridiculously red.
“Get the hell out. Don’t say those words to me.”
Harua giggles, throwing a zip-up on and opening the door to find a disheveled, pink haired staff member ready to knock.
“Uh, hi? Room service for Jo?” He quizzes, squinting at Harua through their half opened door.
Harua’s eyebrow raises.
“I’m not the one you’re looking for. ”
Jo trips over himself to open the door wider, almost pushing against Harua.
“Hi! That’s me, I’m Jo. Remember me?”
Yuma sighs, biting the inside of his cheek to stop laughing. “Obviously. Let me in before someone sees.”
“It’s so late. You were still working?” Jo looks genuinely sad about it. Yuma can’t not fuck him.
“I’m off the clock, but this is still bad. Now let me in, Jo.”
Harua takes that as his cue to discreetly leave, refusing to witness the two any longer.
Yuma walks in and watches Jo close the door behind them, immediately pressing him up into the wood panel.
“Do you know how irritating it is to be busy when I know I could have been here,” He places his hands on Jo’s hips, revelling in the way the boy freezes.
“Touching you, figuring out if you’re that sensitive everywhere? You have no idea how bad I want to hear you make those sounds again.” Yuma stops talking when his face is inches away from Jo’s- And then they’re kissing.
Jo’s bathrobe doesn’t stand a chance against Yuma’s need to see him naked, falling to the floor while Jo hums into Yuma’s mouth.
They make their way to the bed in the most cliché way possible, Jo landing on the mattress after Yuma nudges him down.
He’s desperately leaning into Yuma’s touch again, dick twitching with anticipation when his back collides with the bed. Yuma crawls up to him and presses a finger to the tip of his leaking cock, muttering a soft ‘cute,’ when Jo keens. His eyebrows are drawn with the effort of not thrusting his hips against Yuma’s fingers, because he needs to maintain whatever image he has left.
“I’m gonna ride you, and you’re gonna lay there and look pretty for me. Can you do that, sweetheart?” Jo’s eyes roll shut at the thought and he nods, throbbing in Yuma’s hold.
“Look at me and say it.” Yuma’s fingers tighten around the base of his cock, eyes narrowing in amusement at the lack of response.
“Yes, yes, yes-” His eyes fly open as he pleads, leg bouncing with the effort of keeping his hips still.
Yuma digs a small bottle of lube from his pocket, pouring a generous amount into his hand while Jo watches with rapt attention.
“I might come soon.” He confesses, because the thought of Yuma’s body flush against him is too much to bear– How is he gonna make it inside him?
“You’ll come as many times as I want you to.” Yuma singsongs, palm finally wrapping around Jo’s weeping dick. He rubs his thumb around the crown as he jerks his hand up and down, smiling when he hears Jo whimper.
Jo wasn’t joking when he said he might come soon, every careful twist of Yuma’s hand unravelling the knot in his abdomen.
He can’t hear the wet sound of the lube over his own stuttered moans, eyes glued on Yuma’s sadistic gaze. And as if the eye contact wasn’t enough, Yuma picks up a conversational tone and drawls out, “Wanna know something funny? I don’t have a gag reflex.”
That’s what does it, what gets Jo to scratch at the sheets and arch into Yuma’s palm, cum dripping down his closed fist as he whines. It’s a loud, gorgeous sound that Yuma scrambles to drink up, pressing their mouths together to suck on Jo’s slack tongue.
Yuma takes the opportunity to shrug off his own clothes, letting Jo lay back on the bed while he regains his hearing.
Yuma is crawling over him in seconds, seated in his lap and giggling to himself- Jo is already getting hard again.
“You ready?” He could make fun of him, jack him off into overstimulation, do all sorts of things until Jo passes out- But he’s already prepped himself and he thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t hear the wounded sound Jo will make when he finally, finally sits on his cock.
He couldn’t be more right. He sees Jo’s mouth form around the word ‘wait,’ but he knows it’s not sincere when hands grip at his hips to drag him down on Jo’s throbbing cock. He’s severely underestimated his girth, he realizes with a hazy whine, eyes screwed shut to fully bask in the moment. He feels so full, so powerful and satisfied like this, one hand resting near Jo’s neck as he slowly rolls his hips forward.
Jo looks up at him, pleading and pathetic, nudging his hand higher up his throat. Yuma graciously takes the hint.
“Oh- lovely.” He ups the pressure of his thumb and index and Jo twitches inside him, stomach contracting with the effort it takes not to moan. He briefly wonders if Yuma would be this composed if he wasn’t so weak to assertion, but Jo is losing too much oxygen to finish that thought.
He's making a slightly strained face that amplifies with a swift roll of his hips, and it's only then that he remembers the skin that's probably burning up Jo's back. He pauses, studying every twitch of his brow with a perversion that rivals Jo's. Amazing. He's got him pinned tightly enough to force him flush against the mattress, to see him hold back a pained whimper when the sheets rub against his tender skin. His cum hasn't even cooled down and Yuma's grinding down in slow, drawn out circles that make Jo ride up the bed. It stings, makes his nose prickle, makes him want to reach out and lessen the pressure on his back- But the sick mix of pleasure and pinpricks up his spine makes his eyes roll too hard for him to focus.
“I knew you were a pervert, but not this much,” He sighs out, revelling in the comfortable stretch of Jo trying not to thrust up inside him. His own dick stands against his stomach, precum beading at the tip and dripping onto Jo’s navel. He wonders how long it’ll take for him to beg Yuma to move, but for now, he’s fine with feeling him get harder by the second, filling him out so good he considers being nice to him.
“Not- Please- Not a pervert.” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, struggling to calm his buzzing nerves as Yuma voluntarily clenches around his dick every time his hips move.
Yuma scoffs, like he can read his mind, “Look, look at you. D’you let everyone do this to you? Offer yourself up to anyone- Hah- anyone who flirts with you?” Yuma’s hand tightens dangerously, occasionally letting up to let Jo gasp out a plea.
His own words make him dizzy because his ego is so inflated he could cum from the sight of Jo’s blissed out face in front of him, stuck between chasing the tight heat of his hole and bucking away from it. His whole body is twitching, Yuma notes, feeling a burn in his thighs everytime he stops bouncing to grind his hips in a circle.
“Just you, just you, I swear, I can’t,” Jo stammers, breathless, whimpering out pleas that sound like a mess of Yuma’s name.
“Can’t- what?” He teases, schooling his own desperate moans to focus and hear Jo’s voice pitching up.
“Please, stop talking-” He cuts himself off with a devastated cry, because Yuma just slams his hips down faster. “Gonna make me cum.” He chokes out, sitting up to look directly into Yuma’s eyes. The angle gets his cock to thrust tight up against Yuma’ prostate, hitting it dead on after only feeling dull pressure on it. Yuma throws his head back and his rhythm is finally broken, clearly not expecting the direct stimulation. Jo watches his body tremble and the lower half of Yuma’s shirt ride up, allowing him to see a faint bulge right where they’re connected. He cums on sight. Tears flow down his face because he can’t believe himself, can’t believe how pretty Yuma is, can’t believe he’s stuffing him full of cum before a first date.
Yuma leans down and gets up close to Jo’s scarlet face, disbelief and soul-crushing arousal in his tone. “Oh my god- Are, are you crying?” He digs the pad of his thumb into the slit of his wet, untouched cock and somehow moves his hips even faster, fucking Jo’s cum deeper inside him a dizzying pace. Jo is crying and he can barely punch out a cry before he’s coming all over himself, whining low in his throat and shuddering like a virgin. He feels Jo pull out and an obscene amount of cum dripping out of him, and for the first time tonight, he feels his face heat-up in embarrassment.
“My whole body is tingling.” Jo is splayed out over on his towel when Yuma rolls next to him, shivering at the mess of cum cooling between his thighs. He props himself up on his elbows, looking up at Yuma through his wet lashes. “I don’t think… I don’t… I can’t feel my legs.” His neck is a bit rosy where Yuma had choked him, and there’s several Yuma-shaped teeth marks trailing down his jaw.
Yuma’s hands aren’t on his body, but Jo still feels him everywhere.
The tears that cling to his lashes look like morning dew and his lips are bitten raw- It’s a perfect picture that Yuma wants to see a hundred more times. He closes his eyes and feels his hip pop, because Yuma isn't about to wax poetry about the subbiest hookup he’s ever had. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because Jo would like it.
He whimpers and sniffles while Yuma cleans him up, clinging to his arm and hissing through his teeth at the overwhelming stimulation.
He looks… Cute? Cute shouldn't be the first term Yuma thinks of, when Jo is panting all pretty like this. He looks completely ruined and yet-
He wordlessly reaches out to Yuma’s waist and tugs him closer, until their limbs touch and tangle. Jo has to check out in the morning and Yuma has work, but neither of them care enough to get up and move. All they can think about is each other.
Jo wants Yuma to stay. It’s a selfish request, but he can handle the rejection. It’ll hurt more than never asking.
“You should s-”
“Do you want me to leave?” Yuma finally looks at Jo for more than a second, sporting the same dazed look as him. He looks hesitant, running his tongue over his molars.
Jo’s heart nearly falls out of his ass, but all he can do is tighten his hold around Yuma and whine his disapproval. “Stay with me. Please?”
“Of course.”
“I wanna take you out. Not because you rode me until I cried, but because you’re… really nice.”
Yuma chuckles, playing with the soft hair at Jo’s nape. “Aren't you a tourist?” Now he’s smiling, conflicted, because he’s thinking about dragging a starry eyed Jo to Ikea, but he can’t do that if he’s halfway across the world.
“Oh, no. I live about ten minutes away. My friend- Harua? He’s in town and he booked this room so I could go to the spa. It’s a really long story, but he’s determined to hang out with me without getting the need to deep clean my house.” He starts talking and he trails off when he sees Yuma stare with pure, unbridled joy.
“Thank fuck. I can’t do long distance.” A thigh slings over Jo’s lap, and Yuma is on top of him again.
“So. Choking?”
Jo groans into his hands but Yuma kisses his neck instead, teeth grazing over the bruises already staining his skin. There’s only a few hours left until the moon sets and he can see the hickeys in full sunlight, but for now, laughing into the crook of Jo’s neck will be enough.