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Yagami swirls his glass around, watching the ice melt into the last dregs of his whiskey. The air inside Tender is thick and warm, and when he uncrosses and re-crosses his legs it’s like swimming in a stagnant pond. He’d chosen the bar for its air conditioning, but even that can’t keep up with this heat wave, apparently.
“Quiet in here,” he comments. It’s true—nestled in their corner, they’re the bar’s only occupants, the master having retreated to the back. He feels compelled to break the silence, the atmosphere heavy and static like the moments before a thunderstorm.
Higashi grunts in agreement. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, shirt undone a button more than usual and jacket draped over the back of his chair. Yagami’s not sure why he bothered taking it with him to begin with. “Not surprised no one wants to leave the house.”
Yagami grimaces. “Sorry for dragging you out here.” He drains the rest of the liquid from the glass, rolls it over his forehead, condensation smearing across his flushed skin. Still beats the heat at the detective agency. “Woulda been more fun if Kaito-san was here.”
Higashi shrugs, sips his martini. “Shit comes up, I get it. I’ll never complain about a free drink, anyhow.”
His shirt’s sticking to his chest; he pulls it away, fanning himself. He watches Higashi’s eyes behind his sunglasses, tracking the strip of skin that reveals itself above his belt, the bead of water that drips down the side of his face to his neck. It’s cold, and tickles a little. “Hey, who said it was free? You know I can barely afford to pay Kaito.”
Higashi leans forward, shirt falling open further. Sweat glistens in a line down the center of his chest. Yagami lets his eyes linger, rakes over him. From this angle he’s got a perfect view of Higashi’s tits, enough to tell he’s not even wearing tape today. Can hardly blame him—he’d sweat it right off.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Higashi drawls. He spreads his legs, muscular thighs straining against his suit pants, and rests his forearms on his knees. Yagami’s eyes don’t know where to go. “How about I throw in another favor for you, then?”
The quip is obligatory, part of their little song and dance. They’ve both known for a while how the rest of the night will play out, Kaito present or not. Higashi catches his eye, smirks a little. His lips are wet from the drink, full and rosy. Yagami can practically taste the gin on his lips just by looking.
“Wanna head back to the agency?” Yagami suggests.
Higashi scoffs. “Not until you install an air conditioner.”
“Charles it is.”
Higashi leads the way, doing up a button and slinging his jacket over his shoulder. Yagami follows him up Millenium Tower boulevard, lingering a couple steps behind so he can watch his ass move in those tailored pants. It’s near dark, but not late enough for the drunks to be out, so the streets are relatively quiet, and the high walls on both sides of them make the boulevard into a channel for the breeze. It’s still humid, though, and Yagami feels uncomfortably damp from head to toe.
They hurry down the steps to the arcade, and he’s thankful to find it’s a good bit cooler and drier in the basement. Higashi locks the door behind them and then disappears under the counter, and Yagami strips his t-shirt off, stretching and basking in the cool air.
When Higashi comes up again, holding a bottle of wine, he sighs loudly. “Could you be any more forward?”
“It’s fucking hot out,” Yagami says. He accepts the glass Higashi pours him, takes a couple sips. Higashi’s always had good taste in alcohol, or as good as it can get for someone who stores it under the counter at his arcade. The dry white’s refreshing, cool on his tongue.
Higashi takes his glass and heads for the back room, glancing over his shoulder. He hangs his jacket, shuts the door behind them and sits down on the couch. “Whatever happened to no shirt, no shoes, no service?”
Yagami sprawls out next to him, plants his free hand on Higashi’s thigh. The leather couch sticks to his bare skin. “You can kick me out if you want.” He rubs a circle with his thumb, dragging over the sturdy fabric.
Higashi’s thigh tenses under his touch, then relaxes as he leans back into the cushions. He rests his free arm on the back of the couch, tips his head back a little.
Yagami takes it as an invitation to set his glass down and move his hand up further, stroking up the inseam of his pants and resting just shy of his crotch. He swears he can feel the heat radiating off him, even more so when he starts circling his thumb again.
Higashi shivers. His free hand brushes against Yagami’s bare back, over the nape of his neck and coming to rest on his shoulder. His other hand brings his wine glass up to his mouth, and Yagami takes the opportunity to finally bring his hand up to his groin, pressing against the heat of his cunt and making Higashi splutter into his glass.
“Like that?” Yagami teases, palming him over his pants.
Higashi takes one last gulp of wine and sets his glass down, glaring at him. “You better not plan on playing around all night.”
“Relax.” Yagami brings his hand up, finds the outline of his cock with his fingers and rubs circles over it. It’s hard to tell through the pants, but he’s sure he can feel it stiffening under his touch, heat emanating off every inch of his body. He’s getting hard in his own pants, heat pooling low in his gut at the sounds of Higashi’s heavy breathing, boxers damp from sweat and something else.
“Fuck,” Higashi says softly. With one hand, he undoes his shirt all the way, fanning himself with one side. Yagami reaches across and pushes his shirt open, exposing his chest to the air. Continuing to rub slow circles on Higashi’s dick, he gets a feel of his breasts, squeezing the soft, firm flesh and alternating between the two.
“Love your tits,” he murmurs, other hand slowing briefly as he tweaks over a nipple with his thumb, feeling it harden.
Higashi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know, fuckin’ pervert.” He squeezes the meat of Yagami’s shoulder. “C’mere, get a feel. I know you want to.”
He pulls Yagami into his lap so he’s straddling him, and Yagami pushes Higashi’s shirt off his shoulders, folding it and draping it over the couch. He rocks his hips forward, chasing a hint of friction, his boxers wet and sticking to his cunt.
Higashi guides Yagami’s hands back to his tits, tipping his head back and baring his throat as he gropes his chest. Yagami leans in to kiss at his Adam’s apple, tastes the sweat there and then hunches forward to wrap his lips around a nipple. He flicks his tongue over it, feels the goosebumps rise on Higashi’s heated skin when he sucks hard, massaging his other breast with his hand and then switching places. They’re small, but they’re the nicest pair he’s ever seen because they’re attached to Higashi, sitting pretty on top of his pectorals and glistening with sweat.
“You’re so pretty,” Yagami says, sliding back so he can kiss a trail down his chest and stomach, through his happy trail. Higashi squirms as Yagami undoes the button of his pants, looking down at him under his glasses, almost bashful. He spreads his legs as Yagami sinks down to the floor, toeing his shoes off and lifting his hips so Yagami can shimmy his pants down.
Once they’re off, he goes back in, one hand reaching up to toy with one of his tits while the other teases him through his boxers. He traces a circle around his cock, just slightly avoiding the most sensitive spot, then drags a finger down the middle of his pussy, feeling the wetness soaking through the fabric. It’s a nice pair of underwear, burgundy silk that matches the shirt he wears; he almost hates to get them wet.
“Hurry the fuck up,” Higashi says, his breathing labored. God, he’s so beautiful from this angle, bare skin glistening, nipples peaked, pale thighs on either side of his head.
Yagami’s aching, probably dripping all the way through his jeans. He leans in, presses his open lips against Higashi’s cunt, tastes the damp fabric and inhales deeply. He smells so fucking good, salty, bitter, sweet all at once, sweaty, like his expensive cologne and a hint of fabric softener. Yagami could live off it.
He drags his nose up and down the crotch of his boxers, breathing hot against him, feeling the muscles of his thigh twitch under his hand. With the other, he reaches down to touch himself, grinding the heel of his palm against his throbbing cock as he licks at Higashi’s own.
Higashi makes a choked noise, his pants and the wet sounds of Yagami’s tongue filling the otherwise silent room. It’s far from the worst this room has heard, as either of them can attest to.
“Yagami,” Higashi says, a hand coming to rest in his hair. Yagami takes the hint and picks up the pace, sucking him off through his boxers. His saliva forms a dark stain on the front of the fabric as Higashi’s hips twitch, rutting into his mouth.
The hand in his hair tightens, sending a jolt to his cock, and he figures he’s done enough playing. He tugs his boxers down, finally exposing Higashi’s dripping pussy to the lukewarm air.
Higashi gasps and writhes, a steady stream of curses falling out of his mouth as Yagami licks a stripe up his cunt, lapping at the wet heat between his lips. He brings his other hand back up—he’s so turned on it hurts, but it can wait. Higashi demands all his attention.
The room is getting unbearably hot now, the air thick and steamy and full of the sloppy wet sounds of Yagami’s tongue and Higashi’s choked-out moans. He’s trying not to make too much noise, he never does, so it’s all the more satisfying when Yagami slips a finger into his hole and sucks on his cock at the same time, drawing a long, high-pitched whine out of him.
“Fuck, Yagami, right there,” he gasps, taking his glasses off and dragging a hand over his eyes. “Don’t stop.”
Yagami brushes sweat-sticky bangs off his forehead and redoubles his efforts, burying his nose in Higashi’s neatly trimmed hair and lapping at his cock. Higashi’s hand curls in his hair, his thighs trembling on either side of Yagami’s head as he crooks his finger inside him, stroking his g-spot just the way he knows he likes it.
He loves feeling Higashi come undone around him, his pussy feverishly hot, dripping slick onto the leather cushion. Yagami comes up briefly for air, wipes his mouth and dives back in, sucking on his cock as if drinking a thick milkshake. He’s not sure how Higashi has lasted this long, but he’s not complaining, not when his hand is tight in his hair, pushing him forward, and he tastes so fucking sweet.
Higashi moans, rocking his hips into Yagami’s mouth. He’s so beautiful like this, Yagami wishes he had it on video. He’s got a couple pictures, Higashi fingering himself in low light with his face cropped out, but nothing compared to the real thing—the soft noises, hitched breaths, the flush on his cheeks, the salty-sweet taste on Yagami’s lips.
“Don’t stop,” Higashi pants, “I’m gonna come.”
Yagami moans against his cunt, reaching up with his free hand to grope blindly for one of Higashi’s tits. He runs a sweat-slick thumb over his nipple, squeezes the soft flesh, and a second later Higashi is shuddering and coming on his tongue with a cry.
Yagami laps up his slick like a dog, working him through his orgasm. Higashi trembles through the aftershocks, hand clenching tight in Yagami’s hair, and it hurts so fucking good his own orgasm hits him like a freight train, completely soaking his boxers and whiting out his vision.
He bites down on his tongue to stifle his moan, one hand coming down to rub himself through it. He pulls back to draw breath, clinging to Higashi’s thigh to stay upright—he’s so fucking hot and lightheaded he might pass out. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing.
“God damn,” Higashi laughs above him, breathing coming back down to normal. He reaches down to stroke Yagami’s hair, brushing his bangs back from where they stick to his forehead. “You’re really good at that.”
“Ha,” Yagami says, still dazed. He blinks up at Higashi, wiping his slick from his mouth with the back of his hand. “You make it easy.”
Higashi smiles at him, one of those rare ones reserved for special occasions. It makes Yagami’s heart flutter, and he flushes, averting his eyes. “C’mere, let me take care of you.”
He hoists Yagami to his feet and undoes his jeans, not catching Yagami’s tiny noise of protest as his oversensitive cock chafes against the seam. The jeans go down to his knees, and Higashi’s hand dips into his boxers, a grin breaking across his face as his finger trails through the puddle of slick left behind and he notices the prominent wet stain on the crotch of Yagami’s tighty whities.
“Yagami,” he says, audibly holding back a laugh, “did you come in your pants just from eating me out?”
Yagami looks away, face burning. God, he’s never gonna hear the end of this one. He’d be more embarrassed about it if Higashi’s finger drawing delicate circles around his cock wasn’t already getting him hard again.
“Holy fuck,” Higashi says, sitting down again—Yagami thinks they’re going to have to call professional cleaners—and looking up at him, a gleam in his eye. “That’s hot. Think you can go for one more?”
Yagami’s cunt throbs. He nods, wordlessly pushing against Higashi’s fingers.
Higashi smiles again at his insistence. He starts off slow, dragging his fingers through his wet slit and bringing them up to circle his cock, avoiding the overstimulated head. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, so he stands up again, bringing them chest to chest.
“So good for me,” he murmurs, and Yagami practically melts. Leaning on Higashi’s shoulder to keep himself upright, he leans in to finally kiss him, running his tongue over Higashi’s full lips and licking into his mouth as Higashi dips two fingers inside Yagami.
“Toru,” he breathes into Higashi’s mouth as Higashi crooks his fingers, stroking his inner walls and massaging his cock with his thumb at a languid pace.
Higashi always knows exactly where to touch him, how to kiss him just right. He tastes himself on Yagami’s tongue, nips teasingly at his lower lip and then moves down to kiss under his ear. He’s always been surprisingly gentle that way.
“You close?” Higashi asks, low and husky in Yagami’s ear.
He shivers, despite the overwhelming heat, and nods quietly, fearing if he opens his mouth he might just evaporate. The air clings to his skin, sticky-wet and smelling of sex. If Higashi keeps it up he’s going to melt into a puddle on the tile.
“That’s it.” Higashi steps closer, pressing them chest to chest, and Yagami would almost protest at the burn of skin on skin if it weren’t for Higashi’s tits mashed up against him, nipples dragging over his skin and his faded scars. He loops an arm around Yagami’s waist, fingers splayed across his upper back, and Yagami drops his head against Higashi’s shoulder, certain that the heat will fuse them together, dissolving into one another.
“Good boy. You wanna come for me?” Higashi says, and Yagami can only do what he’s told, shaking like a leaf as he comes on Higashi’s fingers, tears brought to his eyes at the intensity of the shocks running through his body. Higashi strokes him through it and pulls out as soon as it becomes too much, holding him upright as his legs go jelly-like and buckle underneath him.
Yagami breathes heavy, inhaling the musky scent of Higashi’s cologne and trying to bring himself down to earth. He’s guided to the couch, the leather creaking under him, and then Higashi’s warm presence peels away from him.
He can hardly protest, eyes struggling to stay open. Somewhere in the corner of his eye, Higashi pulls on his pants and shirt and then vanishes from the room. Yagami dozes in and out a few times while he’s gone, feeling not unlike the last time he had the flu and couldn't think straight from the fever.
He’s not gone long, thankfully, returning with two bottles of cold water and a wet towel. Yagami downs the entire thing without stopping, invigorating himself enough to wipe down his face and hands. He moves to do the same for Higashi, but he’s stopped, the towel taken from him.
“Relax,” Higashi says. “You rest. I can take care of myself.”
Yagami sighs in protest, but his limbs are too heavy to do much about it. He lets his head fall back against the cushion, glancing over at Higashi. He’s cute like this, pink in the face, hair messed up and sticking to his forehead. He’s taken his glasses off, so Yagami must look like a blur to him, but he smiles anyway.
“That was good, yeah?”
Higashi snorts, opening his shirt again to pat his chest down with the towel. “You could say that, sure.”
Yagami reaches over and places his hand on Higashi’s knee. “I’ll pay for your drinks. And to have the couch cleaned, but… I want a couple things.”
Higashi tilts his head, cat-like, with an amused smile. “What’s that?”
“Let me take you out to dinner next Friday night.”
“…Yeah, alright. It’s a date. What’s the other?”
“Can I use your shower?”
Higashi sighs at him, putting his glasses back on. “Do you even have to ask?”