Work Text:
Hiroaki sits in bed, scrolling through his recent comments on his phone. There’s nothing out of the ordinary there: Top comments calling him a gay-ass, the comments about his love life, the hate from the straight men who think he’s an embarrassment to the nation or whatever. Hiroaki smiles. It’s not like he cares. They simply can’t see how incredible his work truly is.
He shifts slightly to the side, resting his head on the chest of the man lying next to him. He likes lying next to him; he’s always warm and lets him practically lie on top of him every chance he gets. It’s almost domestic, in a way. Ojima’s hand pauses, an arm inching around his waist. Hiroaki hums, satisfied. It had been a few years since the killing game had ended, and while neither of them were in any way mentally stable, they had slowly been recovering with each other. One of the hardest parts of that for Ojima especially had always been physical touch. For their first year together, he had struggled with a hand across his shoulder. After a few years, he’d warmed up to him a lot, growing fully comfortable with physical affection and letting Hiroaki lean on him or cuddle him. He’d started touching him casually as well, playing with his hair or running his fingers down his back. He knew Hiroaki enjoyed it, after all, as he’d sigh contentedly with every finger that ran down a different part of him.
But even after that, there was a line that they’d never crossed. Ojima’s hands would wrap around him, linger at his waist, before snapping away as if he’d been burnt. As much as he understood, Hiroaki couldn’t help a certain feeling from bubbling up every time those hands left his body again. Still, he would never question it. If being with Ojima meant that he would never feel touched again, he would give everything up to love him anyway.
Today was different, though. Leaning on Ojima’s chest, he could feel his breath pause. He slowly exhaled, breath catching in his throat. His heart was beating like crazy, as well. Shit, was he having a heart attack?
Hiroaki craned his neck to look at him. Ojima was deep in thought, clearly present, but brow furrowed, considering something. Hiroaki was incredibly confused.
“Takeshi? What’s up?”
Ojima blinked, looked at him, and inhaled sharply.
“Ah- erm, nothing, Nakamigawa. Nothing. I promise.”
Hiroaki raised one eyebrow, looking him up and down. He’d ditched his glasses earlier in the night, claiming they “were too much”, when in reality he just wanted to see Ojima better.
Hiroaki shrugged, leaning down to kiss his boyfriend.
Takeshi sighed, leaning into the kiss. His hand wrapped around the back of Hiroaki’s head, pulling him closer. When Hiroaki attempted to deepen the kiss, a noise came out of Ojima, something low in his throat. It startled both of them, causing them to jump away from each other and turn a vibrant red.
Looking down, Hiroaki could see the issue straining against Ojima’s slacks.
“Takeshi. Do you want to talk?”
Ojima stammered and looked down.
“I mean- What’s there to talk about?!”
“No. We’re talking about this.”
Hiroaki was very certain about this. If they were going to do this, they would do it properly. Hiroaki needed to make sure he was absolutely okay with everything first. Ojima started talking. At least he was blunt when he needed to be.
“Fine. How do I word this? I want to- uhm, try… things?”
“Veeeery specific, Takeshi. Gonna need more than that.”
Okay, maybe Hiroaki liked teasing him. Sue him. It was fun to see him flustered occasionally.
“God, I don’t know how to ask, okay? I just- I. I wanted to try… touching? You? Maybe? If that’s okay, of course. I don’t know, there’s just been something different lately, and you’re really attractive, and I just really want to-”
Hiroaki’s heart could burst out of his chest. His face was beet red, and Takeshi was so flustered that he couldn’t bear to tease him any further.
“I- I mean, yes! Of course! If you’re definitely, definitely okay with it!”
“Y-yeah, I am. I’ve wanted this for a while now.”
Upon hearing these words, Hiroaki couldn’t hold himself back much longer. He lay fully on his back, pulling Takeshi on top of him, voice lowering to a whisper. When he felt something against his thigh, he smiled. It was making his own embarrassment at being hard a lot easier.
“I have some questions, though. If we’re gonna do this, I want to do this right.”
Takeshi nodded.
“Good. I want to know how far we’re going, firstly.”
“Um- I, All the way?”
Hiroaki sucked in another breath. He might die.
“O-okay, another question then. Do you want to top, or do you want me to do it?”
If he could get any redder, Ojima would turn into a tomato.
“I want to do it, I think. It makes it easier for me to have, like, control of what I’m doing?”
“Understandable. Anything else?”
Ojima shook his head, eyes moving to Hiroaki’s lips, now inches away from his own. He looked up nervously, waiting for the nod. Hiroaki laughed softly and inched his head forward until they met.
Ojima leaned in to the kiss, moving his hand to play with the hair at Hiroaki’s neck. Hiroaki’s own hands wrapped around his back, pulling Ojima against him, pushing his mouth softly against the other man’s. For a while, they stayed like that, slowly making out against the bed, mouths moving together.
Kissing Ojima was sweet, Hiroaki thought. Ojima was never rough with him; he would never be rough, but he kissed him like he was the only person in the world that mattered. Hiroaki, who had grown up in a world where sex was just another chore on his to-do list, had never felt more special in his entire life. Sometimes, he wanted Ojima to consume him with the love he had to offer. He wanted to be suffocated in it.
Hiroaki felt a tongue nudge against his mouth and opened, feeling the other man’s tongue lick against his own. Hiroaki moaned softly, his voice muffled against Ojima’s lips. He gripped his back tighter, pulling Ojima impossibly closer to him, wondering if he could become a part of him if he pulled hard enough. Still, he was waiting on Ojima to make any big moves. He would never want to rush anything with him.
Making out softly, Hiroaki felt Ojima shift slightly on top of him, leaning on his elbow. His hand moved from his neck to his hip, hesitating slightly before resting there. Pausing the kiss for a second to glance at Hiroaki, who nodded gently at him, he gripped his hip harder. Hiroaki gasped, reconnecting his lips with Ojima’s. He leaned over Hiroaki properly, hooking a leg around either side of him. He hesitantly moved his hips down, waiting for a reaction from Hiroaki.
Hiroaki sighed happily, pushing his hips up against Ojima and moving his hands to gently guide him down. Ojima sped up, kisses becoming slightly sloppier, movement becoming a little more frantic as they moved against each other. Hiroaki let out a soft moan, feeling him move at a specific angle. Ojima, still bright red, released him for a moment and sat back on his heels.
Hiroaki blinked, head still reeling.
“You okay? Too much?”
Ojima looked at him as if he owned the world.
“No. Not that at all. I just needed a second. It’s kind of a lot.”
Humming, Hiroaki settled back against the headboard, still panting slightly.
“Stay present, though. This is a really bad time for you to be leaving. I’ll be pissed.”
“I won’t.”
Seeming to ground himself in reality slightly, Ojima shuffled toward him. Hiroaki, wanting to speed things up slightly, knelt opposite him.
“Hey.”
Ojima smiled at him.
“Hi.”
Ojima reconnected the kiss, moving their lips against each other with a passion they did not have before. The kiss was still sweet, but their mouths were fighting instead of moving together. Hiroaki let Ojima do most of the work, keeping his hands rubbing circles into Ojima’s waist.
He only stopped when he felt a hand slide up his arm, nudging the jacket off his shoulders. Hiroaki got the message, sliding it off his arms, letting Ojima run his hands up them. They’d touched each other casually, but this felt different. Hiroaki wanted Ojima to explore every piece of him. He felt Ojima’s hands grip the bottom of his shirt, leaning out of the kiss so he could pull it off.
Immediately, Hiroaki was hit with the urge to cover himself up. His arms wanted nothing more than to wrap around his stomach, his chest, to cover up everything he had been taught to hate about himself. But he wanted to be open with Ojima. He couldn’t conceal anything around him. So, he forced his arms to his side, letting Ojima’s gaze travel across his body, leaning against the bed in a way he hoped was attractive.
Smiling, Ojima let a hand travel up his chest.
“You’re beautiful, you know?”
Hiroaki spluttered.
“Shut up! Keep going!”
Ojima laughed, loosening up a little bit. His hands roamed freely, an artist’s hands, painting a picture over his body. Everywhere his fingers pressed felt like a journey, travelling over his back, down his shoulders, along his stomach. Hiroaki blushed furiously. He’d never been taken care of like this. It felt weird to be cherished.
His fingers stopped on the edges of his belt, glancing up at him for permission. Hiroaki nodded, eyes slightly closed, feeling Ojima’s delicate fingers undoing his belt. He arched his back, allowing Ojima to pull the belt away from his body.
Those hands lingered on the button to his trousers, undoing them slowly. Hiroaki gasped, exposed to the cold of the room, moving himself to let Ojima pull the material from his body.
“Don’t damage that, it’s expensive.”
Ojima gave him a look that made him shut up immediately.
Staring down at him, Hiroaki noted how different their states of undress were. Ojima was still fully clothed, tie and all. He wasn’t sure how far Ojima was comfortable with undressing, so he tugged on the end of his tie, unravelling it, pulling both sides forward to kiss him again, and again. He let his fingers sit on Ojima’s buttons, pulling the sides of his suspenders over his shoulders.
“Can I-”
“Please.”
Ojima was breathing heavily now, his chest rising and falling slowly under Hiroaki’s touch. He unbuttoned his shirt, letting it hang open over his shoulders, tie still wrapped around him. Hiroaki let a hand slide under the fabric, sliding his hands over his stomach, his ribs, his chest. He needed to feel every part of him, let himself touch, feel, become a part of him.
Ojima was beautiful, after all. The stare that he was giving him, panting softly, head tipped back. Hiroaki needed him horrifically. He wanted to give himself to Ojima completely.
He slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting his hands move to his belt, unbuckling it after getting a nod from Ojima. He pulled them down, letting his hand brush against his boxers, taking note of how he shivered and twitched above him.
Ojima knelt in between Hiroaki’s legs now, both stripped to their underwear, letting their hands roam around each other, letting their tongues explore the other’s mouth. Something was comforting in the way Ojima traced the marks on his arms, his thighs, brushing comfortingly over his skin.
Hiroaki lay still for the most part, taking everything Ojima was giving him. He pushed against his mouth, revelling in the attention he was receiving.
He felt a hand slowly trail down his body, stopping right before his boxers. Ojima looked down at him again, and Hiroaki giggled.
“You don’t have to ask me every time, you know. I want this, Takeshi. I want you.”
Ojima fake-sighed, smiling at him, fingers dancing on the edge of his waistband. His hands moved down, lower, until his hand brushed against his dick. Hiroaki stiffened, startled by the sudden stimulation. Ojima took this as encouragement to rub, still lightly, but enough to make Hiroaki feel it. Hiroaki felt like he was about to explode in impatience.
“Seriously, Takeshi! Why are you taking so long! Hurry up!”
His whining seemed to work, as Ojima rolled his eyes and moved to tug his boxers down, earning a yelp from Hiroaki. Ojima poured some lube they’d been given by Tamba as a ‘housewarming present’ into his hand, wrapped it lightly around him, and started to move.
Hiroaki threw his head back, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the moan coming from his mouth. He’d been pent up for so long that any stimulation was honestly enough to send him into a near speechless state. Warmth flooded his stomach as Ojima continued moving his fist up and down, staring at him through lidded eyes.
He felt his hand being lifted off his mouth, and opened his eyes to see Ojima hovering over him again.
“Don’t cover your mouth. We’re alone.”
“Hm. You’re confident, now.”
“And you’re still bratty.”
“You like me bratty.”
Ojima rolled his hand, letting Hiroaki’s sentence decompose into a senseless moan. He laughed at him, leaning down to kiss him.
Hiroaki could feel himself nearing the edge, yelping to get Ojima off him. Ojima almost bolted halfway across the room.
“What? What’s up?”
“Jesus, Takeshi. I was just about to- you know.”
Ojima blinked.
“Oh. Um. Whoops.”
Hiroaki giggled again. His head was swimming, and he felt almost drunk off the atmosphere. He took Ojima’s hand, pulling him back on top of him.
“We were in the middle of something, right? You can continue, now, if you want.”
Ojima looked at Hiroaki’s dick, then looked him in the eyes.
“Actually, Nakamigawa- can I suck you off instead?”
If Hiroaki’s eyes could roll into the back of his head, he’d be looking at his brain right now.
“Oh my god, please. Please Takeshi. Please. Takeshi, please.”
“Alright! I’m doing it! Jesus!”
Ojima rolled his eyes affectionately, crawling between his legs. He kissed the side of his thigh, sending goosebumps over Hiroaki’s legs. He continued, sucking a hickey into the soft skin on the side of his legs. Hiroaki groaned, legs closing on impulse. Ojima forced his thighs down, trapping his legs to the mattress. Hiroaki shut up pretty quickly after that. Huh. He liked being manhandled. Who could have guessed?
Finally, after some more whining from Hiroaki, Ojima closed his lips around the head of his dick, staring Hiroaki in the eyes. Hiroaki moaned loudly, a spiel of “Takeshi” and “Please” echoing from his mouth.
For someone who hadn’t had sex before, Ojima was surprisingly talented. He started slowly, going down the length, before coming up for air. Hiroaki clutched the back of his head, playing with his hair, a source of comfort for him. Ojima was still looking at him, mouth open, licking his dick slowly. Hiroaki could have come on the spot, honestly.
Ojima found his pace after that. Hiroaki could feel his head whirling, the sensation making him cry out in pleasure every few seconds. It didn’t help, looking between his legs and seeing the man he loved so much staring at him as a god, as if his pleasure was all he needed. Hiroaki gently pulled him off by his hair, watching the spit run from the corner of his mouth.
God, he needed him so badly.
With a yelp from Ojima, Hiroaki pulled him into another kiss. This one felt different from the others - desperate, hungrier. Hiroaki was after something now. He pulled away for a split second, enough to whisper against Ojima’s lips.
“Fuck me. Please, Takeshi.”
“Huh. Look who’s not so bratty anymore.”
“Shut up. Fuck me.”
Ojima smiled through the kiss, moving his hand down his body once again, stopping between his legs. Hiroaki felt a finger stopping just outside of him, asking for consent silently.
“Yes, Takeshi. I will literally die if you don’t.”
Ojima laughed at that, inserting his finger slowly. The feeling was strange to him at first. Hiroaki was normally on the other end of this, after all. Still, it wasn’t bad. Nothing could be bad if those fingers were involved. The fingers that Hiroaki definitely wasn’t fixated on in the slightest.
After a few minutes, Ojima added another finger, sending Hiroaki’s head against the pillow again. Ojima hummed, leaning down to capture his mouth. The sensation of Ojima, inside him, everywhere on his body, was driving him insane. It was a stronger feeling than any addiction had ever given him. Maybe that was a bad thing. Maybe he didn’t care.
He spread his fingers inside of him, opening him up, causing Hiroaki to choke on his own spit.
“T-Takeshi. If you keep going, I can’t-”
He pulled his fingers out, wiping the lube on the bedsheets, and smiled gently at him.
“You think you’re ready?”
“Takeshiifyoudontfuckmethisinstantiwillbreakupwithyouandmarryshigekiorsomething-”
“Yeah, whatever. Stop babbling.”
Hiroaki opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Ojima was sliding his boxers down his legs, leaving them on the carpeted floor. Hiroaki stared at him. He wasn’t much bigger than him, but was still bigger than him nonetheless. Shit, was his mouth watering?
“Let me suck you off some other time.”
Ojima spluttered at that, turning red.
“What?!”
“You heard me.”
“I- Okay?”
“Thank you. Now fuck me.”
Ojima paused, a grin spreading to his face.
“And what if I don’t?”
Hiroaki’s heart dropped.
“What.”
“You heard me.”
“What. No. Takeshi.”
“Beg.”
“What.”
“Jesus, say something else. I want you to beg. Come on, you’ve been so loud all night!”
Well, now he doesn't want to.
But annoyingly, the embarrassment of it was making heat pool in his stomach, again.
“Takeshi. Please. Fuck me?”
That was all Takeshi needed to hear. He moved between his legs again, lining himself up. The second he entered, they both groaned loudly.
“Jesus- fuck, Hiroaki.”
He slowly moved forward until he was fully inside Hiroaki. He breathed out, slowly, and started thrusting. Hiroaki moaned so loudly, it probably sounded like a scream to anyone who could hear him. His body was shaking, legs flailing slightly as Ojima moved inside him. Ojima groaned above him, breathing shakily, using Hiroaki’s hips as support to thrust himself deeper.
Tears pooled in his eyes, leaking down the sides of his face. Hiroaki wrapped his hands around Ojima’s back, tugging on his hair, holding him anywhere he could touch. Ojima captured his lips again, salty from the tears running down his face.
Hiroaki had been close for what felt like days, by now. He couldn’t hold anything anymore.
“T-Takeshi?”
Ojma grunted in response, not slowing down.
“Takeshi, I’m gonna-”
That was all the warning Ojima got before Hiroaki was consumed by a sensation that felt like he was melting, exploding, a sea of white filling his vision. His body went limp, only being held up by Ojima, still thrusting into him. The overstimulation was starting to reach his brain, but he still wanted Ojima to finish. After a few more minutes, Ojima moaned into his mouth.
“N-Nagawa, I can’t- do you want me to pull out?”
“No. Don’t you dare.”
Ojima’s vision turned white, releasing inside Hiroaki, his brain turning fully to mush. He collapsed on top of Hiroaki, both limp, panting heavily.
“Damn. I guess I should thank Tamba for the lube.”
“Never say that you’re gonna thank Tamba again.”
Hiroaki poked his head, whining at him to move. He was too heavy, he was annoying, every complaint he could think of. Ojima rolled off him, pulling out of him fully. The feeling of liquid seeping out of Hiroaki was unpleasant, but definitely worth the discomfort.
Ojima left the room, walking to the bathroom to find a wet towel. Hiroaki was left with what remained of his brain, head still spinning. He returned a few minutes later, a bottle of water and a wet towel in hand. He held the water up for Hiroaki, letting him drink from it, humming a song his brother had been working on with Isoda Mion. He cleaned him up with the towel, apologising when his face screwed up. After they’d cleaned up and the sheets had been cleaned, they collapsed into bed together. Hiroaki lay, head resting on Ojima’s chest.
They didn’t talk. They sat in the comfortable silence of their room, resting on each other, a quiet understanding between them, before Ojima broke the silence.
“I love you, Nakamigawa.”
Hiroaki mumbled back from Ojima’s chest.
“Love you too, Takeshi.”