Work Text:
When Doppo comes home, he finds Hifumi sprawled out shirtless on the floor of their shared apartment, with his arms spread wide.
For a moment, Doppo stares, perplexed, worry lurking in the back of his mind. He dumps his work satchel near the kitchen counter and shuffles over to where Hifumi lies with his eyes closed, bare chest rising and falling with a slow rhythm. Then Hifumi stirs, making a soft noise of complaint, and Doppo relaxes again.
He knows that noise—he’s heard it every other night for the last three weeks as summer sinks its grip firmly into the city.
“Doppo,” Hifumi whines without opening his eyes. “It’s so hot.” Clad only in the atrocious pink and green shorts Hifumi had bought for himself last Christmas, he’s clearly attempting to soak up as much of the coolness the tiles beneath his naked back have to offer.
And Doppo can’t blame him. The air inside the apartment is too warm, almost unbearably so. Even with his work shirt loose and untucked after the walk home and his sleeves rolled all the way up, heat rests over him like a blanket, as thick and humid as a Tokyo summer is wont to be.
Hifumi opens his eyes, tipping his head back to look up at Doppo. He brightens when he catches sight of Doppo’s feet, bare on the tiles, and reaches out to grab at his ankle. Doppo kicks his hand away lightly and gestures at Hifumi’s supine form instead.
“Is that working?”
“Yes,” Hifumi retorts. He lies back with a faint thunk of his head. "Well, no. It just helps, kinda. I’ve gotta move every five minutes to a cooler patch."
Doppo frowns. “What happened to your fan?”
“It broke!”
“I told you to get a proper one. Not a cheap one from Daiso. Why do you never listen to me?”
“I was gonna get another one, but I bet they’re all sold out anyway,” Hifumi says, sounding regretful. “And it’s still hot outside, I can’t go out now. Ah, it’s too hot to think, how to cool down, how to cool down...”
“Take a cold shower,” Doppo grumbles. He turns away, tugging off his lanyard and tossing it onto the low table in the middle of the room. The sound has Hifumi twisting around to look at him.
“Hey, wait, where are you going?”
“I've got to catch up on doing my expenses.” Doppo fiddles with his tie; part of it is damp from the sweat that had soaked through the collar around the back of his neck. Gross. Another thing he’ll have to fix later. “My manager said he'd dock next month’s pay if I don't file my expenses properly, all because I didn't keep my receipt for the bento I bought on the shinkansen to Yokohama last week. Ah, what a stupid thing to do.” He rubs his eyes. “What am I going to do about food next week? I won't be able to pay my half, maybe I'll just starve to death—what, hey—”
The floor slips out from under his feet as he crashes downwards with a loud yelp. The painful jolt of hitting tile goes all the way up through his body, and he rolls onto his back, blinking at the ceiling and feeling too stunned to move. Then Hifumi releases his ankle and starts climbing on top of him, and he finds the voice to protest weakly, “Ow, Hifumi—Hifumi, your elbow—” before he’s pinned with a glare instead.
“You're doing that thing again! What did Sensei say it was, your bad habit—” Hifumi complains, entirely unperturbed as he wriggles atop of Doppo’s chest. The air is pushed out of Doppo’s lungs in a whoosh. “Oh yeah, catastrophizing! Which means you're making a big disaster of things—”
Nausea crawls into Doppo’s stomach. “Sensei said I make what—”
“No, no!” A hand slaps his face, only lightly but it's enough to make Doppo pause. Hifumi glares down at him. “You're doing it again, Doppo! Making a big disaster out of something that isn't even a little tiny one! Your expenses will be fine. You've got work tomorrow, you can do it then.”
“But I've got other work to do tomorrow—”
“Well you have other things to do tonight,” Hifumi retorts. Then he brightens. “Like me.”
“What—”
Then Hifumi starts pawing at him, pulling at the buttons of his shirt with intent, and Doppo balks. “I thought you said it was hot!” He tries to squirm out from under Hifumi’s weight, tries to grab those wandering hands, but Hifumi is too quick. His own hands are captured, and he struggles briefly until the heat saps his strength and he gives up. He lets his head fall back to the tiles and groans. “It’s too hot, Hifumi. You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? Doppo-chin, come on, it’s been ages—”
“It’s been two days!”
“Yeah, ages,” Hifumi affirms. He pulls up onto his arms, propping his chin on Doppo’s chest. “Then we can shower. Or take a cold bath. Both. I’ll wash your back, too.”
“You always wash my back.”
“So, is that a yes?” Hifumi asks. He’s smiling, hopeful, and when he grabs hold of Doppo’s hand to press a fleeting kiss to his knuckles, Doppo flushes. It’s not like Hifumi takes long, anyway—Hifumi would deny it vehemently, an embarrassed flush high on his cheeks, but they’ve done this enough times for Doppo to know Hifumi excites far too easily for a man nearing his thirties.
“Fine. Fine!” Doppo wrenches an arm out of Hifumi’s grip and throws it over his face. His voice comes muffled. “But then I'm doing my expenses.”
“Sure,” Hifumi agrees genially. “I'll even help. Now, shirt off—”
Undressing is quick work. Hifumi unbuttons his work shirt, pushing the sweat-damp fabric aside before he sits up over Doppo’s hips, and makes an appreciative noise low in his throat. Embarrassment crawls up Doppo’s chest and neck like a rash. It doesn’t matter how many times they do it, in how many inappropriate places, and in how many weird positions Hifumi insists they try—there’s always something about the way Hifumi looks at him that makes him feel soft and wanted.
And he'll admit that seeing Hifumi astride him, half naked, warm skin already on display and within easy reach, is sparking his own arousal.
Hifumi, of course, doesn't miss a beat. A cheeky smile stretches across his face and he rolls his hips, grinding down into Doppo’s groin. “Getting in the mood?”
“Shut up,” Doppo mumbles, voice still muffled behind his arm. But his other hand comes up to rest on Hifumi’s thigh, tentatively sliding up under the thin fabric of his shorts until he feels the familiar jut of his hipbone.
Hifumi hums. “Don’t be shy, Doppo-chin.” He drags a hand down the flat of Doppo’s bare stomach, fingers inching down to tease over the edge of his waistband. “You can feel me up, I don’t mind. Or maybe you want me to feel you up?”
With a shiver, Doppo feels Hifumi’s hand drop further, knuckles brushing over the growing bulge in his pants until Hifumi grabs his cock through the fabric and squeezes. He can't help the breathy noise that escapes his lungs, low and startled, and the instinctive thrust of his hips when Hifumi molds his grip to fit around his cock, strokes hard, once—
Then pulls away. Doppo bites back a sound of disappointment and pushes up onto his elbows to stare as Hifumi scrambles away on his hands and knees, only to start digging through the cushions on the nearby couch. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for lube! And a condom.”
“...in the couch?”
Hifumi resurfaces, waving his hand. A bottle of lube and a string of condoms are caught between his fingers. “Yup. Real handy, right?”
“In the couch,” Doppo repeats, more urgently. Have they been there the entire time? Are there just sex supplies hidden throughout their entire apartment? The very idea is mortifying. “What if we have visitors? What if they sit on it, what if they find it—”
“Doppo,” Hifumi says, very calmly. He crawls back over, settles back on Doppo’s hips and pushes him back down by the shoulder. “Don't worry. We never have visitors.”
Nimble hands make quick work of Doppo’s pants, easing them over his hips. “That’s not the point,” Doppo retorts, but Hifumi is already uncapping the lube and letting the fluid drip over his outstretched fingers.
The cool touch to his cock makes Doppo shiver, but against the heat of the room, it’s welcome. Hifumi’s fingers wrap around his cock tight, and he thumbs over the slit. The sharpness of the sensation has Doppo’s hips jerking, and Hifumi grins. He does it again, languidly spreading the drop of precum that leaks out in response, as he pushes Doppo’s thigh to the side with his other hand.
“You’re getting wet real fast,” Hifumi comments, grinning. His hand trails down between Doppo’s legs, releases his cock to slip past his balls with a squeeze. With the hand on his thigh, Hifumi pats him. “Relax, Doppo! I’ll take care of you.”
“Don’t say embarrassing things like that,” Doppo hisses as he feels Hifumi’s finger at his entrance a split second before it slides into him. It’s an easy entry—like he said, it was only two days ago that they’d had sex last—but no less intense for it, and he breathes out a slow exhale as he tries not to squirm. “Hifumi, you're going kind of fast—”
“But it’s true,” comes the reply, and Hifumi leans forward, bracing himself over Doppo. His face is flushed, red tinge high on his cheeks. “And I thought you wanted to be done fast! Just relax, don’t worry.” He dips down then, to kiss Doppo's mouth. The fluttering sensation continues along Doppo’s jaw and down his neck, down until Hifumi nuzzles at the hollow of his throat. Hifumi's voice gets rougher, enough for Doppo to hear the affection in it. “I’m gonna make you come—”
Doppo arches to give him room, stifling a small noise as a second finger slips inside. The stretch burns. Arousal is heady and warm, slipping through his veins like heated oil.
“—without touching yourself,” Hifumi whispers into Doppo's collarbones. He bites down with the barest press of sharp teeth, then kisses the faint mark before peering up at Doppo again and repeating, “I wanna see you get off without touching yourself, Doppo.”
“That's ridiculous,” Doppo gasps, breathless. “I'm not gonna—” Another finger prods up against the two already inside him, and he bites down a curse as he feels his body open even wider. Hifumi’s other hand is at his cock again, squeezing, stroking with barely enough pressure to balance the stinging stretch. It's almost too much to stand; Doppo winds his hands through Hifumi's hair without thinking, yanking enough that Hifumi lifts his head with a wince.
“Ow, ow! I'm being serious,” he whines. “Doppo-chin, really! I think you can, and I wanna see it. I wanna do it, can I do it?”
Doppo holds him in place even as Hifumi tries to shuffle back. Feeling watched and with his mouth dry, Doppo draws his bottom lip in between his teeth to wet it, and Hifumi’s pupils dilate with the movement, unwavering gaze fixed on his face. It intimidates him, makes him nervous in a way he can’t describe.
“It's not gonna work,” he insists, with a small shake to Hifumi’s head as if he could shake some sense into him. “I’ve never—I don’t think I can. You're going to be disappointed.”
This time, when Hifumi tries to pull away from his grip, Doppo lets go. But all Hifumi does is lean right back, expression serious and sombre. “Never,” he assures. “Just trust me, okay?” and Doppo stares at him for just a moment before turning his gaze to the side, flushing hotly.
He doesn’t raise another protest and Hifumi continues to stretch him with languid familiarity, curling his fingertips upward with each slick thrust. He spreads his fingers, all three of them knuckle-deep within Doppo, and draws them out with an aching slowness that has Doppo’s toes curling. “Too much?” Hifumi asks, and Doppo shakes his head. His head is too hazy for words, still dizzy with the speed Hifumi is driving at, and pleasure builds in a steady trickle that makes his limbs feel liquid and heavy.
The heat of the room only seems to thicken when Hifumi finally presses his legs up to his chest, bends him in half and pushes into him with one smooth motion. Doppo bites into his arm to muffle the noise caught in his throat.
He’s really not going to last at this rate, he realises, with faint, embarrassed despair. It’d be laughable if he wasn’t so damn turned on.
“Doppo, don’t do that, I wanna hear,” Hifumi complains, panting. He slides a hand up along the underside of Doppo’s thigh, shoving down against the back of his knee until the stretch in his thighs has Doppo moaning, complaining, “Hifumi, I can’t stretch that far—how flexible do you think I am—”
And Hifumi shakes his head. “Let me hear you,” he says, and when he thrusts forward, sinking in deeper than before, Doppo ends up groaning loud enough for the noise to echo through the room.
He barely hears Hifumi’s hum of appreciation. It feels good, so fucking good; pleasure blurs his thoughts and scrambles them with heat. His cock leaks sticky strings of precum onto his stomach. Each of Hifumi’s thrusts rubs up against that spot inside of him, sending bright shocking sparks of pleasure flooding through him, and he can’t help it—he rolls his hips upward until his cock brushes up against Hifumi’s body, and sensation jolts through him like a starburst.
He feels himself clench down, muscles reflexively drawing tight until Hifumi makes a strangled noise. “Doppo, you’re so tight, you feel so good, so good—”
Doppo’s heartbeat thuds loud in his ears. He feels like a dam near bursting, and he gasps, “Hifumi—Hifumi touch me, please—” but falters when Hifumi just shakes his head above him. A stubborn expression settles over his face, and for a moment Doppo’s mind goes blank, uncomprehending. “What? Why not?”
“Without being touched,” Hifumi repeats, as he ducks down to suck a wet mark against Doppo’s neck. His lashes flutter, eyelids lowering, and Doppo’s heart lurches at the singsong huskiness of his voice. “That’s what I said, Doppo-chin.”
“I thought you were joking,” Doppo pants. “Not above the collar, Hifumi—” and he starts pushing at Hifumi’s head, urging him lower until Hifumi obliges. The subsequent bite to the base of his neck feels petulant, and the sudden pain is like lightning under his skin. It only adds to the arousal, coiling warm and thick in his belly, and he tries desperately not to think to hard about why.
“Mmm, should I bite harder?” Hifumi breathes. There’s a wicked light in his eyes, teasing and fond all at once. “Leave marks all along your neck that you can’t hide, that anyone can see. They’ll know, Doppo-chin, they’ll know. What if your boss sees?” he says, and a thrill of anxiety sinks vicious teeth into Doppo. He’s ready to smack a fist against Hifumi’s shoulder, complain about ruining the mood, when Hifumi lowers his voice to murmur, “What if Sensei sees?” and Doppo’s breath stutters on the next inhale.
Hifumi doesn’t miss a beat. He straightens with a grin twitching his lips. “Bingo!” His hands drag down Doppo’s chest in an indulgent slide, nails scratching lightly into skin and thumbing over the stiff peaks of his nipples. Doppo barely has the time to protest, to catch his breath, before Hifumi folds him in half again, tilting his hips up and grinding in deep, so deep Doppo swears he feels it in his throat. A moan forces its way through his lips and only rises in pitch as Hifumi withdraws and drives forward again. Pleasure slams into him, floods his body and wipes his mind clean.
Fuck. Fuck, he’s going to come.
He’s reaching between his legs without a second thought, hand slipping along the sweat that coats both their bodies because of this infernal heat—
A sharp jerk stops him. Doppo blinks in shock as his arms are slammed back against the tiles on either side of his head. He stares at Hifumi, mouth dry. “What? I don’t—”
“I wasn’t joking,” Hifumi says. He sounds hungry, and his eyes are bright as he searches Doppo’s face.
His hands are locked around Doppo’s wrists, almost tight enough to pinch. Doppo tests the hold with a sharp jerk downward, but there’s no give. Hifumi stares down at him, and Doppo tries not to squirm from the scrutiny. His legs have fallen open around Hifumi, and he’s keenly aware of the sweat beneath his back, behind the crook of his knees, and in the curve of his hipbones.
“Hifumi,” he tries, but it’s weak. He’s flushed, his cheeks must be red. It’s hot. So hot, and his body still feels as though he’s burning.
“I said, I wanna see you come,” Hifumi says, licking his lips again. He looks nervous, uncertainty twisting with the strange light of determination in his eyes. Doppo tugs at his hands fruitlessly, mindlessly, and Hifumi’s grip only tightens. “Untouched.”
But Doppo is already shaking his head, back arching in an attempt to grind his cock against Hifumi's stomach. “I can’t,” he hears himself saying, and he shakes his head again, part protest, part denial, “I can’t—Hifumi, let me go—”
He’s halfway to struggling now. There’s a growing tremor in his legs, spreading through his body. He feels like he’s slowly losing control, rational thought fleeing him as the need to orgasm mounts higher than he’s ever felt before. When he pulls against Hifumi’s grip again, it’s more instinctive than deliberate, spurred by the all-consuming urge to take himself in hand and finish himself off.
“Concentrate. You’ve gotta concentrate, feel it deep inside,” Hifumi coaxes, so calm and reasonable like Doppo isn’t falling apart in his hands, and Doppo makes a distressed noise, somewhere between a snarl and a whine.
He can’t fucking concentrate. Not like this, not with desperation licking at his heels like a flame. He groans and it feels like it’s being wrenched out of his throat, climax building and building and building but it’s not enough. It’s not enough to push him over the edge and Doppo’s shaky groan fades into a piteous whimper. His voice cracks when he pleads, “Hifumi, touch me, please—”
“You’re squeezing down on me so hard,” Hifumi’s voice is strained, awed and breathless. “You’re really tight, Doppo-chin. What are you thinking of? Should I keep talking about Sensei? What he’d think of you if he could see you right now?”
And Doppo jolts again, shivers crawling over his skin. He moans, protesting wordlessly. Jakurai’s face flashes into his mind’s eye, expression curious and heated, what would Jakurai do, what would he think—Doppo shakes his head, arousal flaring hot despite his embarrassment, don’t do this, Hifumi, don’t—
“—maybe he’d help me hold your arms back. He’d be gentle, maybe he'd kiss you and mark you up, but you wouldn’t be able to move, and he’d whisper nice things in your ear while I fuck you so hard you can’t help all those cute little noises you make when you really lose it—”
Every muscle feels strained, pulling hard, and Doppo’s senses narrow to the relentless grip Hifumi has on his wrists, the way his thighs dig into the ridges of Hifumi's ribs like he wants to crack them, the constant throbbing ache in his groin. How large and full Hifumi feels inside him, every heavy thrust threatening to wreck him, shatter him into pieces so tiny he might utterly lose himself. The thought of Jakurai watching him, fingers cool and immovable around his wrists, murmuring that he wasn’t allowed to come until—
“Doppo, Doppo—” Hifumi's voice swims to him through the dazed swamp of his mind and Doppo whimpers in response. He cracks his eyes open to Hifumi's worried face, and it's blurry, too blurry to focus, so Doppo blinks and blinks again as Hifumi says, anxiously, “You're crying, Doppo. You're all teary, are you okay? Does it hurt? Did I say too much? We can stop—”
Doppo's stomach plummets, clenches at the thought of Hifumi pulling out and leaving him cold, unfulfilled, untouched. His legs lock around Hifumi reflexively, tight enough to bruise, jerking him closer, and Hifumi lurches forward with the motion. His eyes are wide with fretful worry, breath fanning over Doppo’s face.
Doppo can feel the tears trailing down his cheeks now, wet tracks swept cool by Hifumi’s stuttered panting. “Don’t stop,” he croaks out when Hifumi looks like he’s about to protest again. Inside of him, between his aching thighs, Hifumi has stilled. Desperation mounts higher, seeps into his voice as he pleads, “Don’t stop, Hifumi—please, I need more, I need more—”
He’s babbling, pleas falling from his mouth like a flood until Hifumi’s hips slam into him again, going deep enough to shake a cry loose from him. The mounting pleasure climbs exponentially now, spurred by the brief respite. He can't catch his breath, can't stop to think. Sweat slicks the space between his bare back and the tiles, until he's slipping, sliding with every thrust Hifumi rocks into him. It’s too much, too much—his head is spinning, heart hammering, and his anxiety mutes to a dull thrumming sensation that reverberates through him, shaking him.
“Fuck,” Doppo gasps out, then he's coming, cock pulsing, throbbing as he tightens around Hifumi.
For a few long seconds, his vision goes dark, muffled noise roaring in his ears. He loses himself in the sensation, drowning as pleasure and relief floods through him. He comes back in increments, exhaustion slamming into him like a freight train, and he sags into the tiles, boneless. His spend is splattered against his stomach, his chest, and he flinches when the first shocks of overstimulation begin to bleed into him.
“Hurry up,” he groans. He can feel himself tightening again, body protesting the relentless sensation, and that seems to do it—Hifumi buries his face into his shoulder, stifling his groan, and Doppo feels his cock pulse inside him.
They lie in silence for what feels like an age. Hifumi catches his breath first, and he releases Doppo’s wrists as he sits up. The grip had been tighter than Doppo realised; his fingers tingle as blood rushes back into them. He’s exhausted, tired—that orgasm had felt wrenched out of him, dragged kicking and screaming. When Hifumi pulls out, holding onto the condom, Doppo barely even winces.
“Sensei,” he utters instead. He wipes at his damp eyes, then musters the energy to glare at Hifumi, who only shrugs in response.
“I notice things, okay?” Hifumi rolls his eyes. “Geez, it’s super obvious, you know? I bet even Sensei figures something is up with the way you keep looking at him. Or not looking at him.”
Within seconds, a cold chill sinks into Doppo. Is it that obvious? I-is Hifumi upset? He doesn’t look upset, but Hifumi hides his feelings sometimes, when he's sad and hurting. Doppo flinches at the thought—why wouldn't he be, when his partner thinks of someone else during sex? What kind of asshole does that? He rises on his elbows slowly, fighting the urge to turn tail and run. He could go to the bathroom, say he was gonna clean up—
“You’re looking worried again, Doppo-chin,” Hifumi chimes in gently. His hand drops onto Doppo's shoulder, and it feels like an anchor, steadying him. “Remember what we said before? It’s not a big deal. I wouldn't have used it as dirty talk if it was. I think it’s hot. And I like Sensei. I like the idea.”
Doppo stares for a moment, then ducks his head when inexplicably, his eyes start to sting. He feels wrung out, uncertain. Too tired, pushed too far to keep his already tenuous hold on himself. He doesn't know what to say.
“Oh, Doppo.” Hifumi tugs him up, wraps his arms around him and hooks his chin over Doppo's shoulder. The contact between their bodies feels too warm, too sticky with sweat and semen. “I'm sorry. Don't cry. It wasn't fair to spring that on you. It's okay. Really. Let's talk about it later, okay? Okay? We can clean up and then we'll talk. I promise it's okay.”
Hifumi continues to murmur into Doppo's ear, voice calm and soothing. The heat in the room prickles along his skin again, and his frayed nerves sag under the combined weight of Hifumi's words and his own exhaustion. He doesn't cry, and his shaky lungfuls of air peter out into slow breaths. Maybe Hifumi is right. Maybe it'll be okay. They can figure it out later, when Doppo feels more put together and has the energy to think, and protest, and worry properly like he always does. Right now, he's tired and Hifumi is a warm, comforting presence, still murmuring, still hushing him.
So Doppo breathes in, rests his hands on Hifumi's waist, and closes his eyes. They'll figure it out.