Work Text:
Buy One, Get One
Hitoshi Shinsou is a logical man by most standards. Intelligent in both the work of the book and life of the streets, cautious and courteous. What Hitoshi Shinsou has never been considered is superstitious. Yet, in the few short weeks after moving into his very first apartment, a studio with just enough space for him and his cat (speculatively speaking) Hitoshi began to notice some…oddities.
His cat, cleverly named Kitty, had a set amount of toys. Plastic balls with jingling bells inside, a string toy with feathers attached, a large twine wrapped fish laced with catnip. These were Kitty’s toys, they had been Kitty’s toys since Hitoshi had been gifted the black kitten nearly two years prior. And yet, after the first week, Hitoshi started noticing new toys. A sparkly crinkle ball here, a bit of ribbon there, and treats that Hitoshi had no recollection of purchasing lingered on the floor. In hindsight, Hitoshi would look back on the situation and realize himself a fool for thinking that ghosts were playing with his cat, but he had no other explanation.
One morning, he heard jingling. It was faint, but it was there, and at first Hitoshi thought nothing of it. Jingling, totally normal, he has a cat, it’s just cat things. Except it wasn’t the same jingling that Kitty’s toys did, it was a smaller tinkling sound that had Hitoshi bolting upright in his bed and scrambling to the door to see what was going on.
No one was there when he threw open the door, yet Kitty was playing with a tiny rattling toy that Hitoshi had never seen before. He stared into the hall, wide eyed with heart pounding, the hairs on his arms and neck standing on edge. No one was swift enough to get down the hall and out of sight from the time the jingling started to the time Hitoshi had thrown open the door and yet the hall was empty, the other apartments dark under their doorways, no one had made a peep.
The next instance was when Hitoshi was making dinner, fried rice from the leftovers he had that week, and Kitty was sitting by the door expectantly. He paid her behavior no mind, that is, not until he glanced over after hearing a voice coming from outside the door only to discover Kitty was eating something.
It was salmon, one of the cat treat filets that were roughly four yen a piece at the pet supply store. She ate it up with the smug satisfaction that came from a cat who consumed treats like that often. Hitoshi paused his cooking, setting his spatula aside to rush to the door and once again throw it open. Again, no one was there, yet Hitoshi wasted no time darting for the door the moment he saw Kitty lapping up the treat. There was no way someone had disappeared that quickly, and yet the hall was empty once again and Hitoshi found himself spiraling in an effort to make some sense of the situation. It was then that he settled on ghosts.
The ghosts kept coming around, Hitoshi knew this by the way Kitty’s delicate figure rounded out, plumping up with all the treats she’d consumed. Her toy box was overflowing with toys that weren’t hers and yet now they were, toys Hitoshi had never before seen, but kept around for she seemed to love each and every one of them. He was given a week’s reprieve with no phantom jingling, no mysterious treats, and no whispering beyond his door. That week had him sighing in relief, maybe whatever ghost lurked in the building had finally been satiated and Kitty could go on a nice, healthy diet.
It wasn’t until one afternoon, when Hitoshi was sent home from his place of work early, that he discovered that his apartment was not haunted. No, the ghost Hitoshi believed lingered in the halls came in the form of a man with golden hair stopping just above his shoulders, pulled half up in a loose knot at the back of his head. He was wearing an oversized black sweater and a pair of gray jeans. The man in question was squatted just outside his apartment door, fingers tracing the seam of the entrance.
“Hi pretty kitty, di’ja miss me?” the man asks and it’s as he spoke that a little black paw with razor sharp claws batted at him beneath the door. The man moved his hand quick, tsking at Kitty. “Aht, aht, aht, that’s a naughty girl. No claws little kitty, I have delicate flesh.” Hitoshi just stares at the man as he uses his free hand to push stray locks of hair from his face revealing an angular jawline, a slender nose above full lips, and high cheekbones. He was pretty, too pretty, and the realization has Hitoshi abandoning all rational thought as he opens his mouth to address the stranger lurking in front of his home.
“Would you like to meet her?” The man’s legs give beneath him and he tumbles back, clutching his heart as though it were about to break free from his chest.
“Fucking hell, man, care to warn a guy before you sneak up on him?”
“Wouldn’t consider heading to my own home sneaking,” Hitoshi acknowledges, leaning against the hall wall and staring the golden haired man down. The hair he had pushed from his eyes had fallen into his face and he was now peaking up at Hitoshi through those golden locks. “So you’re the one that’s been fattening up my cat, hm?”
“Me and my roommate,” the man confesses. “She’s always batting under the door when we pass by.” Hitoshi chuckles,
“Yeah, she likes to play, probably doesn’t get enough attention when I’m at work. Did you want to meet her?” He repeats, nodding for the door. The man pushes himself off the ground, rising to his feet to dust off his backside before addressing Hitoshi again.
“There is absolutely nothing I want more than to meet your cat, dude.”
“Hitoshi,” Hitoshi offers, the golden haired man steps up next to him, smiling up at Hitoshi as he says,
“Denki,” his hand outstretched to shake. Hitoshi engulfs it with his own and he’s acutely aware of just how petite Denki is built. He’s several centimeters shorter than Hitoshi, but even his bone structure is delicate, androgynous almost. His eyes fall to Denki’s and Hitoshi’s breath catches in his throat. They’re the color of honey, bright and glittering and Hitoshi wonders if Denki tastes just as sweet and—
Fuck. Wait. No.
He pulls his hand back and slides over to his door, unlocking it and pushing the door open to find Kitty perched nearby on her tower. Hitoshi beckons for Denki to follow him inside and he does, kicking his shoes off near the door and placing them neatly to the side and lined up with the rest of Hitoshi’s. Denki closes the door behind him and as soon as the latch clicks, Kitty is bounding down her tower and rushing over to him, throwing herself at his legs while purring aggressively. In a similar fashion to only a few minutes prior, Denki crouches down to pet her.
“Pretty girl, I was right, you’re just a little thing. Just a little bitty doll,” He coos, and Hitoshi can’t help the snort that escapes him followed by the,
“You’re one to talk,” that slips from under his breath. Denki freezes, tearing his eyes from the cat to slowly fix his gaze on Hitoshi. It has Hitoshi pinned in place, violet eyes wide in embarrassment. His face warms and his mind starts working a million miles a minute in an attempt to ease the tension and fix the situation. It seems the situation needs no fixing, for the next words that fall from Denki’s lips are paired with a smug tone and mischievous little smirk.
“You think I’m a doll?” Hitoshi wants to curl up and die, but rather than that he does the appropriate thing and smacks his forehead with his hand, drags said hand down his face, and proceeds to rub along his jaw.
“You’re as pretty as one,” he admits. It’s Denki’s turn to flush, he’s quick to redirect their attention back to the cat by asking,
“What’s her name?”
“Kitty,” Hitoshi answers, earning a huff of a laugh from Denki.
“Really? What? Did a seven year old name her?” Hitoshi rolls his eyes,
“Literally yes. My sister named her,” Denki grimaces,
“Sorry, that was rude,” he apologizes but Hitoshi only waves him off.
“No, Eri wasn’t a very creative seven year old, she’s a lot better now but…” he trails off with a shrug and offers an easy smile to Denki. “So you live in the building?” Denki scoops Kitty into his arms, cradling her like a baby he rises to his feet, placing kisses to her forehead in rapid succession.
“I live three doors away,” Denki nods in the direction of his flat and Hitoshi thinks about the neighbors he’s met on his floor. There was the old lady next door, the pair of twins two doors down, and in the third flat he could only recall a very grumpy blond. The blond had spiky hair and angry red eyes. Their one and only interaction was in the elevator when the man had stepped in after Hitoshi and upon seeing the button to his floor lit up shot Hitoshi a scowl before huffing under his breath something along the lines of zombie eyes.
“You live with the angry pomeranian?” Hitoshi questions. Denki furrows his brow, the cogs in his mind turning until they piece it all together.
“Pomeranian…you mean Kacchan ?” Denki clarifies, “oh, oh that’s—” he starts laughing, loud and bright much like his hair, much like his eyes. It’s the sound of pure and unfiltered joy and the sound has Hitoshi’s stomach doing flips and his palms sweating just a little bit. Denki releases Kitty to grab his sides, doubling over from laughing so hard. He wipes away a few stray tears as he digs in his pocket and pulls out his phone.
“I have got to tell the group chat about this.”
“Is Kacchan in the group chat?” Hitoshi asks, a little worried for his well being if the angry blond were to find out about his comparison to a small yappy dog.
“Yeah, but like, we bully him all the time. I won’t tell him which neighbor said it. Honest,” Denki motions in the shape of an X over his heart, “cross my heart and hope to die, stick a cupcake in my eye or whatever,” Hitoshi has a vague memory of hearing that exact phrasing from a show about ponies his sister used to watch when she was first adopted, but he lets it go, deciding the less he knows about the blond the better.
“Ah, speaking of the group chat, I’ve got plans with them and if I’m late again, I’ll never hear the end of it. Thanks for letting me meet your precious agent of darkness, I would die for her.” He slides over to the door, tugging his shoes back on before glancing back at Hitoshi. “I’ll stop giving her treats under the door, well, most of the time anyway.”
An amused smile tugs at the corners of Hitoshi’s lips at the thought of Kitty sitting patiently by the door waiting for her daily treat only to be sorely disappointed when Denki stops providing them. It occurs to him then that if Denki stops giving Kitty treats then Hitoshi is less likely to see him again, and while yes they live in the same building that doesn’t mean he can just go over to Denki’s apartment in search of him.
“Would you want to visit her again?” Hitoshi musters the courage to ask, he’s looking away from Denki, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck as he glances to the floor in search of his words, “when I’m home, obviously, I could give you my number and anytime you wanna play with her you can just…shoot me a text.”
Denki’s like the sun, he’s bright and boisterous and loud, but when Hitoshi offers to allow him to visit Kitty again he somehow gets brighter. A glowing beacon of happiness and joy and raw energy. He’s bouncing on his heels, clapping his hands together excitedly before motioning for Hitoshi to bridge the gap between them by handing his phone out to the man.
His phone is black with a clear case, on the back of the case there’s a picture tucked into it of who Hitoshi can only assume are Denki’s group chat friends. A woman with pink hair and heavy eyeliner, a man with red hair that looks absolutely fucking ripped, a tall lanky looking guy with a mullet, and the angry pomeranian in question. They’re all leaning in together around Denki, each wearing gleeful smiles except for Kacchan who looked as though he was being held in place by the redhead.
Hitoshi punches in his number, adding a cat emoji next to his name before passing it back off to Denki. “See you around?” He asks as the blond turns to leave, his hand resting on the doorknob. Denki casts him one last look, that blinding smile still on his face when he says.
“Absolutely.”
The first text comes a little over a week later and in that time Hitoshi had worried himself into a frenzy. He’d spent literal days agonizing over when the next time he was going to see Denki was, staring at his phone waiting for an unfamiliar number to pop up in his messages saying something along the lines of hey! this is Denki! Kitty have time for a playdate soon? But that message never came and Hitoshi was beginning to come up with ways he could appropriately knock on Denki’s door, risking the wrath of his horrible roommate and a shitty excuse just to see the blond.
He just could not stop thinking about him. Kitty seemed to be thinking about him too, for at the same time everyday, she sat by the door waiting for Denki, but day after day she was left waiting. Hitoshi was beginning to wonder if something had happened to the blond when finally that Friday evening his phone buzzed, a new text message from an unfamiliar number.
U home? This is denki
Hitoshi waited two minutes to respond, not wanting to seem overeager and like he’d been waiting for Denki to text him.
Ye, you can come over if you want
Not five minutes later, there’s a knock at his door. Hitoshi is on his feet and yanking it open within a matter of moments. He opens the door with a smile, but the smile dies when he sees the blond. The radiance he’d had the day they met was nowhere to be found, instead standing before him is a shell of the man he’d been missing. There are blue and violet circles lining his eyes, his lips are chapped and he looks pale. Denki is dressed in gray sweatpants and a black tank top beneath a yellow pikachu hoodie, his hair is tucked into a gray beanie but the few pieces that stick out around his face are shiny with grease, like they hadn’t been washed in a few days.
“Woah, you okay man?” Hitoshi can’t stop himself from asking, Denki sighs,
“Nah, not really. My situationship broke up with me and I’ve been in a funk the last few days. My friends suggested I visit your cat. According to Mina cats can heal a man with their purring, so I guess…” he shrugs. Hitoshi steps aside to allow Denki into his apartment.
“I was about to order something for dinner and find a movie to watch. If you haven’t eaten you're more than welcome to stay and hangout, I just need to set up a makeshift seating area.”
Hitoshi’s apartment is small, a little shoebox of a thing. There’s a coat closet to the left upon entry to the apartment, the hall empties out to the main room with the bathroom off to the right. Directly across from the entrance to Hitoshi’s apartment is a set of sliding glass doors leading to a balcony. Just before the doors, on the left side of the apartment, are a line of counters, cupboards, and a stove and microwave. On the right wall, opposite the kitchen area, is a tri-fold bed. On either side of the bed sits bookshelves overflowing with varying genres and authors from scientific studies to poetry to sci-fi and fantasy.
The tri-fold bed is in its compact position, several pillows and blankets stacked neatly on top of it. While Denki kicks off his shoes, Hitoshi unfolds two segments of the bed, letting the third one stay upright against the wall as a back rest. He tosses his pillows around in an effort to make the space more comfortable.
“I have some squishmallows I can donate to the cause,” Denki offers, eyeing the seating arrangement.
“Are my pillows not good enough for you, Denki?” Hitoshi questions, an edge of mock hurt lining his words. Denki smiles a little, but it’s nothing compared to the smile Hitoshi is vying to see.
“I’m sure they’re fine, but I’m a comfort fiend , Toshi. If I’m not drowning in plush, it’s not good enough.” Hitoshi chuckles, eyeing Denki for a moment before sighing dramatically and gesturing at the door.
“Bring on the mallows.”
Denki is gone and back in a flash, banging against Hitoshi’s door when he returns. Hitoshi hadn’t doubted Denki’s squishmallow collection, he just hadn’t expected them to be so fucking huge when he came rushing back over with them. There was a bright red crab with a blue tie-dye shell, a yellow octopus with aqua tentacle looking flippers, a red mushroom, and a blue axolotl all massive and plushy and Denki was drowning beneath them. How he had managed to carry all four of them over was beyond Hitoshi.
Hitoshi steps back, holding the door open for Denki to pass. The man kicks off his shoes again before scurrying over to Hitoshi’s make-shift couch and arranging the mass of plush on it. Hitoshi shuts the door behind Denki, following after him with his phone in hand and doordash pulled up.
“You’re hungry, right? Because if not you’re just gonna have to watch me eat.”
“Dude, I haven’t eaten real food in days, I’m fucking famished.” Denki admits, looking up at Hitoshi from his place on the floor. Kitty was on the floor next to Denki, circling him and sniffing aggressively at the squishmallows.
“Days? Why?” Hitoshi questions, brows knitting together in confusion.
“I, uh, you know how some people eat their feelings?” Hitoshi nods, “I can’t eat when I’m emotionally distressed, so I’ve been living off of club crackers and pomegranate flavored salt water taffy.” Hitoshi can only stare at Denki as he takes what the man had said in, processing it to its fullest before deciding on the appropriate course of action. Clearly the only logical reaction to have is for Hitoshi to say,
“Damn, you really liked that girl, huh?” Denki throws himself back into the mound of plush, groaning loudly.
“She was so cool ‘Toshi. Way out of my league and I guess she figured that out too. She has this whole pop-punk alt thing going for her. Leather jacket, combat boots, in a band. A total knockout and she laughed at my jokes Hitoshi! People never laugh at my jokes, but she did and—” Denki brings his hands to his face, fingers pressing into his temples while his thumbs rest supportively on his cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll ever find love.” Hitoshi snorts, loud and unmistakable and Denki looks horrified when he hears it.
“I’m sure someone out there has a fetish for the human incarnate of Pikachu.” Hitoshi offers casually, but then he crouches down near the bed-couch-thing and gives Denki a sympathetic look as he pats his knee. “In all seriousness, you’re an attractive guy. I’m sure you’ll find someone, she just wasn’t the one.” Deep down, deep deep down Hitoshi knows that if he ever meets this girl, he’s taking her out to dinner. Not out of a some shitty attempt to woo the girl that Denki couldn’t, but as a thank you because without her breaking his fragile heart the blond wouldn’t be in Hitoshi’s apartment on a friday night, lying across his bed like it belongs to him, and set to watch a movie and eat dinner with him. This girl, whoever she is, couldn’t have done him a bigger solid.
And so, as Denki’s scrolling through the menu for the restaurant they agreed to order from on Hitoshi’s phone, he begins to scheme. The first part of that scheme is to find a way to see Denki more regularly, at least once a week, once he’s completed that he can move onto phase two. Finding out Denki’s sexuality. He’s straight at worst and bi at best and Hitoshi is praying for the latter of the two. Once that’s discovered, and if it turns out Denki is bisexual, then Hitoshi can begin the wooing. He’s never intentionally wooed someone before, so he isn’t entirely sure how to go about that, but Hitoshi figures it’s better to get through the other stages of his plan before jumping to grandiose displays of affection.
They spend the better part of waiting for their food bickering over which movie to watch. Denki is adamant they watch some musical Hitoshi has never heard of in his life while Hitoshi insists on a shitty b-flick horror movie. After a few minutes of back and forth and several rounds of rock-paper-scissors all ending in draws, Hitoshi realizes it’s the perfect scenario to enact his scheme.
“What if!” Hitoshi cuts in, interrupting Denki mid sentence, “what if this friday we watch one movie and next friday we can watch the other?” It’s the perfect plan, they can’t decide, so they’ll just have to watch both together. The only thing stopping this from happening would be Denki, who doesn’t seem the least bit deterred from spending more time with Hitoshi.
“Okay, that’s fair, but which one do we watch today?” Denki asks, eyes narrowed.
“The horror movie, obviously, my apartment, my cat you’ve come to use the healing properties of, and I bought dinner. It’s only fair,” he justifies. Denki doesn’t deign a response, instead he accepts his defeat with a gracious flourish of his hand.
“Deal.”
They sit shoulder to shoulder, burrito bowls in hand, a bag of chips and a large container of guacamole between them while they watch the movie. Denki boos the couple being stalked by the demon several times, mainly the male lead who continually makes questionable choices in the face of a paranormal horror. Hitoshi smiles the entire time, his attention on Denki more than the movie. By the end of the night, the blond is smiling vividly again. He turns it on Hitoshi as he packs up his squishmallows to leave and Hitoshi’s heart squeezes in his chest when the blond says,
“Thanks Toshi, I feel way better. See you next friday?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you next friday.”
Hitoshi counted down the minutes. When the following Friday finally arrives, Denki shows up at his apartment clad in a pikachu onesie with squishmallows in hand and a bag of kettle corn between his teeth. Hitoshi holds the door open for him as he waddles in, kicks off his shoes, and heads directly for the bed-couch-thing. Denki let the squishmallows fall from his arms, Kitty getting caught beneath them when she went to rub her face against Denki’s legs. She lets out a disgruntled meow before bolting away and up her tower to stare down at the two.
“I brought kettle corn!” Denki cheers when he grabs the bag from between his teeth. “Fresh from the street fair so you know it’s the good stuff,”
“You went to the fair?” Hitoshi asks, scrolling through doordash on his phone in search of something for dinner,
“Yeah, Ei dragged Kacchan and I out of our flat. Claimed we’ve been holed up in it for too long and needed some fresh air. I just think Ei wanted to hang out with Kacchan but was scared to be around him without a buffer.” It wasn’t hard for Hitoshi to put two and two together,
“Does Ei like Kacchan?” Denki nods aggressively, a grin spreading from ear to ear.
“Man’s smitten Hitoshi, and I’m pretty sure Kacchan feels the same way. Kacchan’s just bad at showing anything that isn’t anger.” Hitoshi huffs a laugh, passing his phone to Denki.
“Chinese or italian?”
“Chinese everyday,”
The musical is, to Hitoshi, the worst thing he’s ever seen in his entire life, but that’s fine. It’s fine because he’s watching it with Denki who sings along to every song. Though his singing is off key, Hitoshi doesn’t give two shits. Denki is smiling, Denki is laughing, and Denki is doing it with him . Shoulder to shoulder in their nest of pillows and squishmallows sprawled out in Hitoshi’s apartment with Kitty resting soundly between them. It’s perfect, Denki’s perfect, and Hitoshi wants more than anything to kiss him.
He doesn’t because he still doesn’t know where Denki falls when it comes to boys and consent is important when touching someone. So, rather than smooch the heck out of his face, Hitoshi tries to come up with another reason to hang out with Denki. He didn’t need to think at all, for when the movie concluded and Denki was gathering his squishmallows again, he glanced back at Hitoshi and said,
“What should we watch next friday?”
The next friday they watched the SpongeBob Movie and ate burgers, the friday after that they watched My Cousin Vinny and ate pasta, the friday after that they watched Barbie: Fairytopia and Barbie: Fairytopia Mermaidia and ate subs, and the friday after that they watched Legally Blonde and tried their hand at cooking. It was a failed attempt as both men were disasters in the kitchen that resulted in them ordering in a pizza.
They started texting throughout the week leading up to their movie nights, back and forth about what movie, what for dinner, and who was paying. At some point, Denki stopped taking his squishmallows home, leaving them at Hitoshi’s under the guise it was ‘too much hassle’ to haul them back and forth…in the same apartment complex. Hitoshi was fine with it, the squishmallows smelled like Denki and they were fairly comfortable. If he didn’t use them, Kitty did. On more than one occasion Hitoshi would come home to find the mass of black fur curled up on the octopus, the biggest of the set, paws faintly kneading at the mallow.
This Friday was different. This Friday they planned to binge all three Lord of The Rings movies, extended editions. Neither of them work in the morning, so staying up until an ungodly hour bothers no one. Well, Kacchan had some choice words about how loud Denki is when he’s actively trying to be quiet and upon hearing that, Hitoshi told Denki he could crash at his place if Kacchan was going to be an ass about it.
I can’t do that, you’ve only got one bed and it’s barely a bed to begin with. Denki had argued over text. Little did the blond realize that he had set Hitoshi up with the perfect way to test the waters on his sexuality.
We’ll share it, no big deal Denks. Unless you’ve got a problem sleeping next to another man?
It was a risky text, but they’d become close enough over the month that Hitoshi doubted Denki was any brand of homophobic. The man was a complete disaster and he was fairly certain there was a stereotype about bisexuals being disasters. Either way, he’s smitten.
wouldn’t be the first time i’ve slept with a man, but it will be the first time i go to bed with one with the intention of sleeping
Hitoshi choked when he read that text. He read it and reread it throughout the week, not entirely sure how to respond. Part of him wanted say ‘ there’s a first time for everything’ the other part of him, the horny goblin part of his brain, wanted to respond with ‘ well i would hate to break a record,’ but he didn’t, instead he opted for the safest route possible.
sounds good
When Denki arrives that Friday, Hitoshi nearly combusts. Thus far, the blond had attended their movie nights in sweatpants, onesies, pj pants or the likes. This night, however, this night in particular Denki was in a pair of sinfully short shorts. Hitoshi couldn’t help but notice that Denki had legs. Denki had really nice legs, smooth and soft looking and in the back of Hitoshi’s mind he makes the connection that Denki shaved his legs, but he isn’t sure what to do with that information. The blond is in an oversized sweater, the same one he’d been wearing the day they first met, and the combination of the sweater and the shorts have Hitoshi’s head spinning. He’s just so fucking pretty and it isn’t fair. It takes every ounce of self control for Hitoshi not to slap a hand on either side of Denki’s face and pull him into a kiss.
He behaves, stepping aside to allow Denki in like he has every friday night prior, and just like every friday night prior, Denki kicks off his shoes, and goes to sprawl out across Hitoshi’s bed-couch-thing (along the way he drops a bag near said bed-couch-thing). Kitty greets Denki with a mewl and a head butt to his ankle that Denki meets with a pat of his hand on her head and a few scritches beneath her chin. The two men waste no time ordering dinner, setting up for their movie marathon with Hitoshi’s laptop propped up on a bin at the end of their nest.
They ordered suishi that came with miso soup and gyoza and negimaki to share. With the containers of food situated, The Fellowship of The Ring playing on the laptop, the two men settle in comfortably to watch. It’s right about when the Fellowship make their way to the mines of Moira that Hitoshi’s entire world is turned on end.
Denki sits up, setting aside empty food containers and his chopsticks so that he can shift to sitting on his knees. Hitoshi does his best to keep his eyes fixed on the screen, but the moment the man leaned forward, it was all over. He’s on his knees, stretching across the couch-bed-thing to grab his bag which had been discarded a ways away from the bin holding the laptop. His ass is directly in Hitoshi’s line of sight and oh god if it wasn’t a sight to see. Round and toned, Hitoshi wants to sink his teeth into the smooth flesh of Denki’s thighs, bruising them for only him to see. He reins it in, or so he tried, only for his pride to be shot when he felt the twitch of his dick as it pressed against his sweats.
Hitoshi scrambles to adjust the way he’s sitting, raising one leg to bend at the knee and draping his arm casually across his crotch. When Denki is finished digging in his bag, he sits back down and nestles in. It isn’t unusual for their shoulders to touch or arms to brush during movie night, but it is unusual for Denki to stretch himself out and lean into Hitoshi. He yawns and stretches his arms and legs until he can’t stretch them any longer then proceeds to lean to the side and tip directly into Hitoshi’s lap. The force of impact sent Hitoshi’s bent leg flattening to the side, his erection brushing against Denki’s back. Hitoshi freezes, breath hitched in his throat.
“I guess this won’t be the first time, hm?” Denki murmurs,
“Wh— what?” Hitoshi stutters, eyes fixed on the blond in his lap. Denki shifts, turning over to look up at Hitoshi. The adjustment was deliberate, Denki rubbing slowly against Hitoshi’s crotch and nearly pulling a moan from the man at the contact. A sly smile curls at the corners of Denki’s lips, a glint of mischief twinkling in those honey colored eyes as he opens his mouth to speak.
“Shorts, huh?” Hitoshi’s brain stutters with him this time, he isn’t given the chance to collect his thoughts or backpedal on his reaction because as soon as the question left Denki’s lips, the blond was sitting up. He was sitting up and crawling into Hitoshi’s lap and he was straddling him. Faintly rocking his hips against Hitoshi when he settled in.
“Denks what’re you—what’s going on here?” Denki stares at him, eyes looking between Hitoshi’s, flickering from one to the other as if searching for something. Whether he found what he was looking for or not, Hitoshi couldn’t be sure. What he can be sure of are Denki’s hands on either side of his face, his hot breath tickling his lips as Denki leans in and when he does he quietly whispers,
“If you don’t want this, stop me.” And then Denki’s lips are on Hitoshi’s and stopping is the exact opposite of what Hitoshi wants to do.
Denki’s lips are soft and they taste like gingersnaps and orange spice, his hands are soft too, holding Hitoshi’s face firmly but gentle, controlling the kiss as their lips move against each other in tandem. Everytime Hitoshi’s ever had a first kiss, it’s been an artless affair, messy and clumsy and too much trying to figure out how eachother works. Kissing Denki feels like he’s been kissing him his entire life and maybe even longer. Kissing Denki feels like coming home, it’s as comfortable as it is electrifying, every nerve in Hitoshi’s body standing on end where they touch. Kissing Denki feels like the turning of a page, the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one. Kissing Denki feels right.
He licks into Denki’s mouth, and the blond opens up to meet him in a mingling of breaths and tangle of tongues. Hitoshi’s hands come to rest on Denki’s hips, but they don’t stay there for long. Denki’s shorts are sinfully short and with the blond grinding against his erection and sucking on his tongue Hitoshi makes the assumption he’s allowed to touch. His hands slide down, calloused fingers running over smooth skin and Denki groans into his mouth when Hitoshi grips the meaty flesh of his thighs and his fingers flex to knead at the soft skin.
Denki rolls his hips, rubbing his arousal against Hitoshi’s. The violet haired man’s head spins and his grip on Denki’s thighs becomes a firm, unyielding thing. He holds him in place, rolling his own hips to grind and rut against the blond. Denki gasps and finally releases his hold on Hitoshi’s face. He leans back, pulling away from their kiss to cast a heavy lidded look at Hitoshi. Denki’s pupils are blown and his lips are a vibrant pink, they’re spit slick and a little kiss swollen and Hitoshi wants nothing more than to bite at his bottom lip and progress that pink hue into a red tone.
“ Fuck ,” Denki swears,
“I’m more than happy to,” Hitoshi says slyly, smiling at Denki lazily with a heady gaze. His words must do something for Denki, for the man in his lap lets out a small, unmistakable noise. He whimpered. Hitoshi is a simple man, truly. He hears a pretty boy make sweet desperate sounds and his mind turns to goo, any sense of pacing is lost on him as all cognitive thought shifts south and Hitoshi begins thinking with his other head. His voice lowers partially by accident and partially with intent but entirely because he had a sneaking suspicion that it would make Denki squirm.
A hand abandons Denki’s thighs, trailing up his back until Hitoshi’s hand is running through golden locks. He grips them, forcing Denki’s face closer as he leans forward. Their cheeks brush and Hitoshi brings his lips to Denki’s ear and in a soft, low tone he says, “I’ll fuck you, Denki, all you have to do is ask.” Denki whimpers again, rolling his hips in response to Hitoshi’s statement. Hitoshi tuts, releasing his grip on the blond’s hair and reinstating that grip on Denki’s thighs.
“No, Denks,” he chides, sitting back to fix Denki with a stern gaze. Smokey violet eyes bore into brilliant amber ones, searching Denki’s eyes—his face for signs of something whether it be consent or lack thereof.
“you’ve got to use your words for this. Don’t tell me you’ve run out? For someone who never stops talking, that's surprising.” Denki is writhing against Hitoshi, but the ironclad grip Hitoshi has on his legs prevents Denki from moving and gaining any sort of friction. It’s a hindrance to Hitoshi as much as it is Denki, but what Denki doesn’t know Hitoshi is fully aware of. As soon as he’s given the go ahead, Hitoshi is going to rail him into the ground. He’s going to taste every inch, leave marks in his wake, and he plans to relish in the sounds he’ll pull from Denki’s lips.
“Didn’t take you for such a dominant personality in the bedroom, Toshi.” Denki mutters, he’s leaning back, looking at Hitoshi through his lashes, a pretty pout present on his face. Hitoshi smiles at him, one brow quirked in a silent inquiry. Denki doesn’t elaborate on his statement, so Hitoshi chooses to purge the silence with his own acknowledgement.
“I would say I didn’t expect you to be on the bratty side, but I’d be lying through my teeth.” A hand flies to Denki’s chest, pressing against his heart. He looks appalled, utterly dismayed at the accusation that he, Denki Kaminari, might possibly be a brat. The look lasts all of a few seconds before it melts from his features and in its place is something darker, more mischievous. The look tells Hitoshi he’s in for either the best or worst night of his life.
“ ‘On the bratty side’ is an understatement, Toshi. But what gave it away? My—” before Denki is able to get another word in, Hitoshi answers him.
“It was the squishmallows.” Denki blinks. Once, twice, three times before breaking out in a laugh. That loud exuberant sound that has Hitoshi’s heart clenching and his stomach doing cartwheels. The sound that’s plagued Hitoshi’s mind for weeks, holding him hostage to it in his dreams. The sound that Hitoshi would one day realize he had fallen in love with, but today is not that day. Today is the day Hitoshi wants to feel that laughter on his lips and breathe it into his lungs. He wants to feel its ghost on his skin in the form of hot breath and he wants to dance to its music.
He leans forward again and when he does he shifts his legs to force Denki forward. Denki squeaks and reaches out, bracing himself using Hitoshi’s shoulders. Hitoshi releases his vice like grip on Denki’s thighs, but only the one, using that hand to grip Denki’s chin and bring him in for a kiss. This kiss is slower, more purposeful, instead of a lust filled haze there’s some sentiment to it. That sentiment lingers on their lips, burning like a brand as they melt into each other.
The hand on Denki’s chin slides back into his hair, cradling the back of the blond’s head. Hitoshi’s free hand travels from Denki’s thigh up to his waist, slipping beneath his sweater to brush against bare skin. Denki shivers at the touch and with that shiver he hums against Hitoshi’s lips. Denki’s grip on his shoulders is bruising, his fingers gathering the fabric of Hitoshi’s shirt and bunching it in his hands as he leans further into Hitoshi’s space. Hitoshi is leaning back against a pile of pillows and squishmallows, he shifts, adjusting his posture until he’s sinking further back into the plush and pulling Denki with him.
Denki stretches across him, one of Hitoshi’s arms wrapped around his waist, the other hand still in his hair, massaging the back of his head. They’re pressed against each other, cock rubbing against aching cock, the fabric of their clothes providing a terrible brand of friction that’s both too much and not enough. Denki moans into their kiss, his lips parting and Hitoshi takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth. They lose themselves to each other and the feeling of hands in hair and brushing against bare flesh, of nails digging through fabric, and of hips rolling together.
With every roll and thrust Denki’s breathing becomes more erratic, his moans increasing as much in volume as they do in pitch and Hitoshi isn’t faring much better. He distantly hears Gandalf say, “fly, you fools” to the rest of the fellowship before succumbing to the Balrog. It’s that statement that spurs his decision to remove his hand from Denki’s head and slide it down to meet his other. He grabs the hem of Denki’s sweater, tugging on it. Denki pushes himself up, breaking their kiss to allow for Hitoshi to guide his sweater higher until Denki is lifting his arms and Hitoshi is pulling it off of him.
Hitoshi places a hand on Denki’s chest, pressing against him, “lie down, Denks.” Hitoshi says, the words are a suggestion but his tone is an order. It seems to work because Denki rolls off of Hitoshi and onto the flat part of the couch-bed-thing where no pillow nor squishmallow lingers. Hitoshi rolls after him, a hand landing on either side of the blond’s head, his knees pressing against Denki’s thighs, urging them apart. Hitoshi kisses Denki again, long and lingering and nothing short of heated.
He tears himself away, sitting back on his knees. Hitoshi’s hands travel over Denki’s body, the gentle brush of calloused fingertips against perfectly smooth skin. His fingers trace patterns as they go, sending goosebumps shooting across Denki’s arms and legs and shivers running up his spine. Hitoshi smiles, it’s a lazy sort of thing but Denki seems to take some comfort in it, for he smiles back just a little bit.
Hitoshi’s fingers hook in the waistband of Denki’s shorts and he looks to the man lying beneath him. His eyes ask a question he has yet to voice but before he’s given the chance, Denki is nodding his head.
“Yes.” He says, a bit more than earnest, but the eagerness of his permission has Hitoshi’s smile solidifying into something intentional, something he would only ever offer Denki.
“Yes what?” Denki raises his pelvis in answer,
“Strip me,” he says simply, so Hitoshi does. His fingers curl around the waistband and he tugs the shorts down, freeing Denki’s erection from the confines of his them. When they’re past his thighs and pulling over his knees, Denki lets his hips fall and brings his knees up to allow Hitoshi to pull the garment the rest of the way from him. Hitoshi tosses it to the side with little regard for where the item lands. Then he’s sliding his knees from beneath him, stretching his legs back as he lowers himself between Denki’s legs. Hitoshi props himself up on his elbows and uses his hands to coax Denki’s thighs apart. They fall open with little resistance and Hitoshi cannot help but stare.
Much like his legs, Denki is close shaved everywhere and while Hitoshi wouldn't have cared one way or the other, he was finally able to put two and two together.
"You…planned this. For how long?" He leans in, placing a kiss on Denki's inner thigh that has the man buzzing.
"Since we watched Hamilton ." Denki admits, "I've been dropping hints, but for someone so smart you're dense as fuck." Hitoshi bites him and Denki gasps, loudly. The gasp morphs into a moan that went straight to Hitoshi's aching arousal. He sucks over top of where he'd bitten, intent on leaving bruises.
"Sorry," Hitoshi apologizes half heartedly when he lets go of Denki's thigh. "Let me make it up to you," he moves a little to the left then sinks his teeth into the man's thigh again. Denki squirms beneath him, his hands coming up to run through Hitosh's hair, gripping the purple locks. It was Hitoshi's turn to moan, the sound ripping through him with such force he hardly had the chance to stop it.
"Hair pulling does it for ya, hmm?" Denki teases. Hitoshi answers with his eyes, peering at Denki through his lashes as he continues his bruising bite. Denki tugs again, but this time Hitoshi lets go.
"What are your limits?" His voice is all business, his expression severe.
"What?" Denki rasps,
"Where does your consent end, at this moment, what is too much?" Denki shakes his head,
"I don't know that I have a limit right now," Hitoshi pushes himself up, climbing back over Denki to look down into his eyes. He leans in, their lips brushing and breaths ghosting against one another.
"Then I'll tell you what I plan to do, and if you don't like the sound of it, tell me." Hitoshi's eyes flicker between Denki's searching for any revocation, any indication he doesn't want this. "You'll tell me, right Denki?"
"Yes, I will. Promise," Denki says, crossing his heart. Hitoshi kisses him soft and sweet. He peppers kisses across Denki's jaw, trailing back to his ear where he whispers his plan.
"I'm going to taste every inch of you, I'm going to leave bruises from your neck to your knees so dark you'll see them for days and feel them for longer, I'm going to milk that pretty cock of yours of everything it has to give, and I'm going to fuck you so hard the neighbors will be pounding on the walls begging for us to shut up. Now, how does that sound to you?"
Denki's eyes are big, his pupils too, that alone was an indicator that the man beneath him hung onto every word and wasn't opposed to any of it. He was silent for a few beats, Hitoshi stares at him intently, waiting for Denki's answer. In the background Galadriel is telling Frodo of Boromir's impending betrayal, but Hitoshi doesn't really hear it. All of his senses are fixated on one singular point.
"Hitoshi," Denki starts, "ruin me." Hitoshi is all too happy to oblige, diving down to engage Denki in a searing kiss. Hitoshi's hand trails down Denki's chest, his stomach, until his fingers brush his erection. Hitoshi wraps his hand around Denki's leaking cock, thumb rubbing over the head, smearing his precum. Denki shudders at the touch, moaning into their kiss and rocking his hips, thrusting into Hitoshi’s hand. Hitoshi bites his lower lip, tugging on it as he pulls away to trail kisses along his jaw.
“Aht aht,” Hitoshi warns, “we’re not ready for that yet, Denks.”
“You’re impossible,” Denki hisses when Hitoshi kisses down his neck. Teeth and tongue and a trail of burgundy bruises later and Hitoshi is kissing Denki's cock. He peppers them along the weeping erection starting at the tip, trailing down. He licks a long strip back up earning a gasp from Denki, the gasp becomes a loud desperate thing when Hitoshi goes down on him. Taking Denki's dick in his mouth, his tongue flat against the underside as he sucks him in and swallows him down. He hollows out his cheeks, opening his throat to take all of Denki, straight down to the base.
“Holy fuck!” Denki exclaims, loud and out of breath, as though he had just run a marathon. Hitoshi can’t help but smirk a little when he pulls off Denki's cock, letting it fall from his mouth with a faint popping sound. He sweeps his tongue slowly up Denki’s erection, circling the sensitive head with his tongue before taking him in his mouth again. Denki’s thighs close around Hitoshi’s head, but he forces them back open with his hands, a bruising grip pinning them apart.
The sounds that fall from Denki’s lips are slow drawls of pleasure. They start deep in his chest, building in his throat until they have no place left to go but out. They’re low in tone, deeper than his speaking voice and raspier than his normal breathing. As Hitoshi sucks him, Denki attempts to roll his hips, thrusting into Hitoshi’s mouth. The violet haired man doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls off Denki altogether, sliding his hands from his inner thighs to the backs of them and pulling Denki up forcefully. Denki’s knees fall over Hitoshi’s shoulders, his feet resting against his back, heels digging in when Hitoshi’s grip shifts to Denki’s ass. He uses his thumbs to spread his cheeks, giving him access to the meal he’d been craving every Friday night for the last six weeks.
He licks a slow, wet stripe over Denki’s hole earning the opposite of a gasp. Denki inhaled sharply, fingers gripping the sheets of Hitoshi’s couch-bed-thing. He holds his breath and Hitoshi presses his tongue flat against Denki’s entrance waiting to move until he exhales.
One….two…three
Denki’s thighs flex on either side of Hitoshi’s head
four…five…six
His grip on the sheets loosens,
seven…eight…nine
He takes in another deep, gulping breath
Ten
Denki exhales with a shudder and a faint, “oh fuck,” in a tone higher, needier, more desperate than any of his previous moans. Hitoshi plunges his tongue into the heat of his ass, flexing it inside the hole and sucking against his entrance.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Hitoshi pulls his tongue back, licking across Denki’s puckered hole once again. He laps at it, running his tongue across it in slow sweeping motions, diving in to wiggle around and earn more sounds from Denki before pulling out and doing it all over again.
“fuck— Hitoshi— please—” Denki sounds absolutely wrecked and Hitoshi was just getting started. He pulls his tongue out of Denki’s ass and spits on his entrance, once, twice, coating it with his saliva. He releases one hand from its hold on Denki’s ass and traces over his glistening hole with a finger tip before slowly, painstakingly, sliding his finger in.
Denki chokes on Hitoshi’s name, his hands gripping the fabric of the sheet once again. Hitoshi is slow to work his finger in one knuckle at a time and allows for several beats to pass before he considers moving his finger at all. It’s when Denki starts begging again that Hitoshi curls his finger before pulling it halfway out then shoving it back in. He repeats the motion slowly, sensually, and much to Denki’s dismay.
“Hitoshi— Toshi— please, please, please!”
“Please what?” Hitoshi asks, smirking up at him.
“Fuck me, for the love of all things please.” Hitoshi responds by removing his finger from Denki’s hole, ducking out from beneath his legs and rising to his feet. His own erection is aggressively noticeable in his sweatpants as he stands. Denki looks heartbroken and it takes everything in Hitoshi not to burst out laughing at the expression crossing his face.
“You want me to fuck you properly or do you want to be in the worst pain of your life?” Hitoshi throws the question over his shoulder as he heads for his bathroom. He sifts through the bottom drawer of his vanity, grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom. When he returns, Denki is sitting up on his knees, hands between his legs. He’s pouting, his lower lip pushed out and his eyes big and blinking up at Hitoshi. Hitoshi smiles,
“You’re not playing fair, Toshi,” Denki sighs, his eyes trailing over Hitoshi’s still clothed body.
“Forgive me, am I wearing too many clothes for you?” The question is playful yet genuine and it’s met with a nod from the blond. Hitoshi tosses the bottle and foil packet onto the couch-bed-thing, he grabs the back of his shirt and tugs it over his head tossing it to the side. He makes eye contact with Denki, or he tries to, but Denki’s eyes are on his chest traveling over the outline of his abs and Adonis belt. Denki crawls over to him, grabbing Hitoshi’s erection and palming him through his sweats. Hitoshi hisses, snatching Denki’s wrist with his hand and pulling it away. Denki blinks up at him, peering at Hitoshi from beneath his lashes. He’s biting his lower lip in an attempt to hide the smile creeping across his face, but it does nothing to mask it.
“You told me what you’re gonna do to me, Toshi,” Denki starts, he uses his free hand to pry Hitoshi’s fingers from his wrist. When both hands are free, he places them on Hitoshi’s stomach and drags his fingers down to curl into the waistband of Hitoshi’s sweats. “But I haven’t shared what I’m going to do to you.” Hitoshi quirks a brow,
“Yeah? Enlighten me.” Denki tugs, pulling Hitoshi’s sweats down, his boxers too until they’re past his thighs and fall to the ground with ease. Denki reaches up, wrapping delicate fingers around Hitoshi’s thick member. Hitoshi tenses, eyes trained on Denki, watching as the blond leans forward and gently kisses the swollen and leaking head of Hitoshi’s cock.
Denki doesn’t answer Hitoshi with words, but with actions. He tears his eyes from Hitoshi’s dick to stare up at him. A sunshine gaze clashes with moonlit eyes and Denki circles his tongue slowly around the head of Hitoshi’s cock. Hitoshi wants to let his eyes fall closed, he wants to relish in the feeling of wet heat against him, of stimulating friction from tongue and hands, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Denki’s gaze has him pinned, and he can’t fathom the concept of tearing his eyes away from the sight before him.
Denki is a work of art, picturesque in all his beauty and even more enticing when he’s on his knees taking Hitoshi’s cock in his mouth and swallowing him down until he’s choking. Denki grabs one of Hitoshi’s hands, placing it in his hair and curling his fingers around Hitoshi’s in an effort to explain what he wants without words. Hitoshi understands immediately, his fingers grip golden locks and he tugs Denki off his cock. Hitoshi’s breaths come in heavy sighs as he forces himself back into Denki’s mouth, his throat, burying himself in the wet heat and holding Denki there as tears prickle at the corners of the blonds eyes. Denki blinks them back, moaning around Hitoshi’s cock. Hitoshi shudders, tightens his grip, and repeats the motion. He thrusts into Denki’s throat unrelentingly, finally tearing his gaze away when Denki’s own loses focus in the form of crossed eyes.
Heat coils in Hitoshi’s core, building and building until he’s on the edge of exploding, unloading into Denki’s mouth. He pulls the smaller man off of him, saliva connecting his cock with Denki’s lips. There are tear tracks on Denki’s face, but he doesn’t wipe them away. Denki’s chest rises and falls as he breathes in much needed oxygen, his cheeks are flushed a deep red that trails up his ears and down his neck and there’s a wild look in his eyes.
Hitoshi steps out of his sweats, kicking them to the side. “Lie back, Denki.”
“You really wanna do this missionary?” Denki asks, looking horribly offended. Hitoshi rolls his eyes and shakes his head before returning his attention to Denki. He brings his hand to Denki’s face, resting it on his cheek and Denki leans into it. Hitoshi runs his thumb across Denki’s lips, pulling his lower one down. Denki opens his mouth, taking Hitoshi’s thumb in it and sucking on the digit, swirling his tongue around it.
“I wanna see that pretty face of yours when I bury my cock inside of you, Denks. I wanna watch each and every expression that crosses your face as I pull out and plunge back in. I wanna see those eyes cross when I hit your prostate and I wanna watch your body flush red when you cum.” Denki’s eyes are wide, his ministrations on Hitoshi’s thumb having ceased. Hitoshi nods his head from one side to the other,
“So, yeah. I wanna do this missionary, next time I’ll shove your face into the floor.” He leans forward, brushing his lips against Denki’s ear when he says, “and who’s to say next time isn’t tonight as well.” Hitoshi pulls his thumb from Denki’s mouth, removes his hand from his face to place it on his chest and gently guide him down and onto his back. Hitoshi grabs a pillow and Denki lifts his hips to allow for Hitoshi to slide the pillow beneath him. Denki’s knees fall open without prompting, his cock rests heavily against him, red and leaking and Hitoshi wants to touch him but not yet. He pops the cap on the lube bottle, coating his fingers generously before toying at Denki’s hole slathering it with the substance before sliding a finger deep inside of him.
Denki gasps, arching into the touch. One hand is back to gripping the fabric of the sheet, but the other is resting against his forehead, his arm covering his eyes and hiding his face. Hitoshi allows it for now, watching the lower half of Denki’s face, the way his throat bobs when he swallows, the tensing and untensing of his jaw with every stroke of Hitoshi’s finger against his insides. When Denki relaxes, Hitoshi slides in another digit, spreading them out then closing them together, curling them inside of him. Denki moans loud and lewd when Hitoshi brushes against his prostate, his breaths come in quick gasps and Hitoshi basks in the sound.
He slips in a third finger and this time Denki freezes, a pained whimper escaping as he clenches around Hitoshi—beneath him.
“Breathe, Denks, breathe,” Hitoshi murmurs, “relax,” He doesn’t move them, allowing for Denki to acclimate to the sensation of being stretched. “I should have gone slower, I’m sorry, do you want me to stop?”
“Hitoshi Shinsou if you stop I’ll fucking murder you,” Denki bites out, it’s the most aggressive thing he’s ever heard come from Denki and Hitoshi has half a mind to wonder if it’s the influence of his roommate that spurred him to say something so callous.
“I was just trying to be considerate, sweetheart.” Denki freezes again, but not from the pressure nor any sort of pain, but from the word sweetheart. Hitoshi freezes too, eyes going wide as he stares down at Denki, looking for anything in the lower exposed half of his face that might indicate he isn’t completely appalled by the term of endearment. Denki pulls his arm to the side, his hand resting over his eyes. He spreads his fingers, looking at Hitoshi from between them,
“I’m your sweetheart now, am I?” he asks. It’s a mix of a taunt and authentic curiosity and Hitoshi can only flex his fingers, spreading them inside of Denki. He moans, loud and desperate and needy. “Haaa—ah, hah”
Denki doesn’t ask again, his arm falls back over his eyes as he rocks his hips, fucking himself on Hitoshi’s fingers until his moans are defeaning and his breathing is erratic and then Hitoshi is pulling his fingers from Denki’s ass. The blond whimpers in protest, and Hitoshi chuckles in response. He tears open the condom, rolling it onto his erection before lining himself up with Denki’s entrance. Hitoshi leans forward, capturing Denki’s hand in his and tearing his arm away from his face, pinning Denki’s hand above his head.
Hitoshi stares down at Denki, watching intently as he pushes into him. Denki’s face contorts, he bites his lip and his body tenses again. Hitoshi presses his lips to Denki’s forehead, letting them linger. He murmurs against him, “breathe, Denki,” before kissing him again. When Denki relaxes, Hitoshi pushes in further,
“Fu—uck” Denki breathes, “fuck, fuck . Hitoshi— Toshi— how does it feel being god's favorite? Perfect face, perfect body, and perfect— oh god— dick.” Denki speaks, the most he’s said in one go since they had started their game. His words leave Hitoshi feeling scandalized, his own face flushing red from the compliments.
“You’re so fucking pretty and it’s not fair, Toshi, it’s really not fair.” Hitoshi huffs a laugh, his breath tickling Denki’s face and causing the man to wrinkle his nose. Denki’s looking at him now, eyes open but lids heavy. He’s staring at Hitoshi—through him—he holds his gaze when he says,
“If you want me to be your sweetheart, your honey, your babe— baby , your whatever I will, in a fucking heartbeat.”
“What if I want to call you kitten ?” Hitoshi teases with the confidence of a man who has nothing to lose but the anxiety of one who’s afraid of losing everything. Time seems to standstill as Denki’s eyes flicker between Hitoshi’s. Silence falls between them save for the sounds of the laptop in the background. With bated breath, Hitoshi waits. After a long moment, Denki’s lips curve up in a smile.
“I’ll be your kitten.” Hitoshi rocks into him and Denki matches his movements, grinding down against him. Hitoshi swears under his breath, a litany of compliments falling from his lips as he thrusts into Denki.
“You’re calling me pretty? Have you seen yourself, kitten? You’re pretty—beautiful—gorgeous and fuck—” Hitoshi’s rocking into Denki but it’s not right, they’re not close enough even though they’re chest to chest and pressed together and—
“Hitoshi,” Denki whines, “let me ride you, please.” Hitoshi’s pulling out a second later, helping Denki up. Hitoshi situates himself sitting upright, Denki clambers into his lap, straddling him, he reaches back to grab Hitoshi’s cock, guiding him in. Denki sinks down on Hitoshi and the violet haired man throws his head back with a moan. Denki takes the opportunity to latch onto Hitoshi’s neck, biting and sucking in a similar fashion to the way the man beneath him had done earlier. That pulls another moan from Hitoshi and he rocks his hips up into Denki.
Denki groans against his neck and begins bouncing himself up and down on Hitoshi’s cock in slow idle movements. Hitoshi meets those movements with ones of his own and meets Denki’s lips with his when the blond pulls off of his neck. They crash together teeth and tongue and the slapping of skin on skin and heady moans. Heavy breaths and high pitched whines and the sensation of being filled, of being squeezed, of thrusting in and out and in and out and this building pressure. A white hot heat bubbling and boiling and churning until it’s on the verge of spilling over and someone sobbing into someone else’s mouth but neither know who.
Hitoshi’s fingers wrap around Denki’s erection, he strokes the neglected cock as Denki falls onto Hitoshi’s dick and Hitoshi’s thrusting up into him and they’re kissing and biting and Denki’s nails are digging into Hitoshi’s shoulders. It takes all of a few strokes before Denki screams into Hitoshi’s mouth and paints their stomachs with ribbons of white, his hole throbbing around Hitoshi’s cock. Hitoshi continues to chase his own release, hands a bruising grip on Denki’s hips as he pulls the blond up and pushes him back down, fucking up into him. Denki’s grip slackens and his throbbing hole tightens around Hitoshi and then Hitoshi’s vision whites out as he finishes inside of him.
They slump together, sweaty and tired and breaths falling heavily from their lungs. Denki’s head is resting against Hitoshi’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around Hitoshi’s neck. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, he just sits there breathing heavily. Hitoshi wraps one arm around Denki’s waist, holding him in place while the other moves to brush Denki’s hair from his forehead.
“You good, Denks?” Hitoshi asks,
“Mhm,” Denki groans, he tears his head from Hitoshi’s shoulder to look up at him. His gaze flickers from Hitoshi’s eyes to his lips. He leans forward, pressing his lips to Hitoshi’s, gentle and sweet. The hand Hitoshi had used to push Denki’s hair from his eyes makes itself home on the nape of Denki’s neck as he kisses him back. The arm around Denki’s waist tightens, holding him firmly to Hitoshi’s chest. When they break apart, Denki says,
“So much for watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy.” Hitoshi huffs a breath,
“Oh we’re watching it. We’re restarting Fellowship of the Ring and you’re going to keep your hands to yourself,” Denki pouts,
“What if I wanna keep my hands on you though?”
“Then do so appropriately. ”
After some back and forth, they eventually pull apart. Hitoshi removes the condom from his wilting penis, tying it off and tossing it into the trash. He drags Denki with him to the shower, insisting that neither of them is climbing back onto the couch-bed-thing while they’re sweat soaked and smell like sex. After their shower, Hitoshi changes the bedding, tossing the sheets soiled by bodily fluids into his dirty laundry hamper. The two curl up in their nest and restart the movie per Hitoshi’s insistence.
They make it through their trilogy, pausing three-quarters of the way through the Two Towers for a second round and just as Hitoshi promised, Denki’s face was in the mattress and his ass in the air and Hitoshi was relentless with him. They didn’t shower after that round, reasoning that they still had another movie to get through and there was no telling what would happen between the end of the second and third movies. It was a good call on their part in the end.
Sleep comes easily for both of them, Denki curls up to Hitoshi like a cat and it’s as sleep has him by the throat, his eyes heavy and mind falling blank that Hitoshi realizes Kitty is staring at him from her tower. The thought occurs to him that oh fuck he lives in a studio apartment and there isn’t exactly a whole lot of places for Kitty to hide with Hitoshi’s couch-bed-thing being in the middle of the room. He makes a mental note to buy her her favorite can of wet food as an apology for potentially scarring her emotionally for years to come.
They sleep heavily in a tangle of limbs, waking only to the sound of banging on the door the following afternoon. Hitoshi groans loudly and Denki lets out a whine when he peels himself from the blond.
“Just ignore it,” Denki murmurs, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The pounding gets louder, rattling the door and startling Kitty. She hisses and jumps down from her tower, running to cower behind the mound of squishmallows on the floor.
“You think I can ignore someone scaring my cat?” Hitoshi asks, anger spiking as he rises to his feet. He pulls on his discarded sweatpants and shirt from the night prior before heading over to the door. Hitoshi unlocks the knob and deadbolt but leaves the chain intact as he opens his door a crack. On the other side, glaring up at him, is the angry pomeranian.
“Where the fuck is he?” Kacchan demands, Hitoshi glances back over his shoulder.
“Denks, it’s for you.” He closes the door and undoes the chain,
“Toshi that’s a really bad ide—” the angry blond bursts through the door a second later, shoving Hitoshi out of the way and storming over to where Denki is sitting. There’s a scowl lining his face, but that scowl doesn’t meet his eyes. No, the glint in his eyes is a mixture of relief and frustration.
“Kacchan what the fuck?” Denki asks, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring up at his roommate. Kacchan pulls out his phone, pointing to it aggressively.
“We’ve been texting you for hours. Do you know what fucking time it is? It’s three in the afternoon and none of us have heard from you. Shitty Hair was worrying himself sick and Raccoon Eyes wouldn’t leave me alone until I came to check on you.” Kacchan holds up his phone, snapping a quick picture of Denki and sending it to the group chat. Hitoshi’s face warms at the prospect of others seeing Denki looking how he does now, hair a mess of bed head, hickies decorating his throat, his shoulders, his chest and stomach. The only article of clothing on his body are those sinfully short shorts.
“Text your friends or I’m gutting the bat—” Kacchan stops his tirade, looking down when he feels something rub against his leg. It’s Kitty, she’s purring loudly as she slams her head into the angry man’s shin. Kacchan’s posture slackens, his face immediately softening. He doesn’t make any moves to intentionally touch the feline, but he doesn’t step away from her either.
“Don’t gut Batsy. That’s just fucking cruel,” Denki says, he leans over to dig in his bag, pulling out his phone. He types furiously on the keyboard for a few moments before tossing the phone back into his bag. Kacchan’s phone dings with a notification and Denki shoots him a pointed look.
“Happy?”
“Hardly. Are you coming home tonight?” Denki hesitates, eyes flickering from Kacchan to Hitoshi and back before he nods a yes.
“Yeah,”
“Good, I’m making chicken parm. Shitty Hair and Tapearms are coming over for dinner.” Kacchan glances at Hitsoshi who’s been silent during the exchange. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the exchange unfold between the two. “You better be there too, Zombie Eyes.” He says before turning for the door and leaving without another word. The door slams shut and Denki blinks,
“I think Kacchan likes you, Toshi.” Hitoshi casts a rueful look at Denki,
“What in the everlovingfuck could give you that idea?” Denki smiles at him, bright, blinding, and beautiful. He rises to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. He crosses over to Hitoshi, stopping in front of him. Denki tiptoes, placing a delicate kiss on Hitoshi’s nose before falling back on his heels and saying,
“He doesn’t give just anyone a shitty nickname, only people he deems worth his time.” Hitoshi isn’t sure whether that’s supposed to soothe his nerves or cause them to spike, but he’ll take what he can get especially after the way the angry man had barged into his apartment. “You’re coming to dinner, right?” Denki asks, looking up at him hopefully.
“I don’t want to overstep any boundaries,” He says, hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “I’ll join if you want—”
“I want. I want you to come over for dinner.” Denki says firmly, “please?” How can Hitoshi refuse when he’s looking at him with those honey colored eyes and asking so sweetly? He can’t, he really can’t. He sighs somewhat dejectedly before nodding his head.
“Sure thing, kitten .” Denki flushes a pretty shade of pink, “you know we owe Kitty an apology, right? Especially after last night—” Denki slaps his hand against Hitoshi’s chest.
“Oh my god! Toshi! We’re horrible pet parents! Oh my goood NO we exposed her to–to–” Denki’s eyes are wide and he looks utterly horrified as the realization that Kitty was in the same room as him washes over and drowns him. But Hitoshi’s not thinking about the look on his face or the horror in his eyes, no. He’s hung up on the phrase we’re horrible pet parents. More particularly the we’re.
“I’m sorry, we?” Hitoshi asks, Denki’s horror drains from him as he fixes Hitoshi with a look,
“She’s my cat too at this point. Look at all those toys I’ve bought for her!” He gestures to a crate in the corner with all of Kitty’s toys. “She loves me just as much as you, if not more.” He says it so confidently, so sure, that Hitoshi can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face. He leans down and into Denki’s space.
“I suppose if we’re coparenting we should really work on our labels then, hm?” Denki doesn’t waver, he keeps his eyes locked on Hitoshi’s, his arms crossing over his chest and a brow quirking in challenge.
“Labels?” Denki asks,
“Yeah, I’m her dad. So what are you? Friend, brother, weird uncle? Or maybe you want to be her other dad. The problem with that is the title of dad is a privilege given only to those who are romantically involved with her already existing catdad,” Hitoshi points to himself, “me. So, kitten,” Denki blushes again at the pet name, but his gaze is unwavering, his stance solid. “If you want to be Kitty’s dad, you’ll have to be my boyfriend too. We’re a package deal.”
Denki’s attention flickers from Hitoshi’s eyes to his lips then back up, “I’m a sucker for a good bogo.” He admits, and Hitoshi laughs loudly.
“Alright then, boyfriend, we scarred our child.” Denki wilts, turning to look down at Kitty who was sitting between them, her tail wrapped delicately around her paws.
“Baby!” Denki cries, bending down to pick her up. He nuzzles his face into her uttering apologies galore paired with the promise of wet food, new toys, and treats. Hitoshi smiles big and bold and in this moment his heart clenches in his chest at the sight of his boyfriend and cat. He's so incomprehensibly happy the ghosts weren't ghosts after all.
Fin.