Work Text:
A new age in time…
As time ascended, technology followed suit. Riding horses turned to riding cars. Televisions slimmed down. Robots became a thing, like, an actual thing. Wristwatches were something for grandparents and teachers. Social media was introduced. Those cars mentioned earlier? Now they were electric and some drove on their own.
Society followed suit as well, only walking… backwards. People got stupider. Social media tore apart everybody’s social skills. Absurd crimes became a norm. Children lost their ability to read. Screens ruined everything.
And with the dangerous rise of screens, people will naturally find things better than CD’s and vinyls to listen to their music. With the rise of digital music society has gotten, well,
Lonely.
Hajime Hinata, a young student with about the same amount of interest in music as he has with money, –he doesn’t care for it, but it’s everywhere– found himself slumped over the same front counter, in the same stale, synthetically fresh-smelling quarter of the mall. To his right were a selection of posters, rolled up and sorted by numbers and their displays of different rockstars and rappers. To his left, a circular rack of clothes which he knew to be mostly band-tees –he had the displeasure of folding them every morning, so he knew, and at the pinnacle of his vision there were rows upon rows of CD’s, prettily displayed vinyls, and shelves of DVD’s.
Why was he here? To make money of course. In a pathetic way. In a place so subdued and empty where he would sit on his phone most of the time until he’d get his one-customer-per-blue moon. It was relieving not having to do much work but still getting a paycheck at the end of the week. But his efforts still felt cheap. Fold the clothes, add new CD’s to the mounting collection, repeat.
Sometimes there would be young teenagers coming in to gawk at how vintage everything was, never buying anything. Hajime wasn’t old enough to really get the full experience of physical music. He grew up in the 2010’s, where it hit its big decline, and when Spotify bursted in popularity. He was in a similar boat to the teens, but still, it was quite annoying.
Then there would be the older guys who knew way more than him, asking Hinata for his recommendations in the metal section. He couldn’t name more than three metal bands by heart, but these guys with their unkempt beards, their faded tattoos, their gruff voices and their long hair seemed to be under the impression that the guy who works at the record store was the record master. No. Hinata was here for money. Something that he didn’t exactly care for, but it was everywhere, the key to everything, and he kind of needed it to survive.
“Yep. Back in my day I went to tons of concerts. Usually with my buddies, all shitfaced.. We had a good time growin’ up. Music was our life.” A laugh rumbled from the larger man’s chest, and Hinata copied, with a nervous, quieter one of his own.
The two were in one of the aisles after the man asked for some help. Hajime accepted, reluctantly, and now found himself deep in a conversation he didn’t want to be in.
After the laughter in the room trailed off, “Yeah, I can’t say I’ve ever been to a concert…”
Holding up a Metallica record, the man interrupted exuberantly, “You see this right here? Metallica, craziest concert I've ever been to.”
Thank God it was one of the three metal bands Hinata could actually name.
“Oh yeah, Metallica. I like their song uh…” He basically Logic Dived for this information. “For whom the bell goes…?”
Though he was familiar with Metallica and their sound, he wasn’t really an expert on music. He usually liked whatever was popular at the time, or whatever those most important to him liked at the time. He knew bits and pieces about all kinds of genres, but not enough to hold a stable conversation with regular music listeners.
Another loud, rather eardrum rumbling laugh. A startled, yet smiling Hinata, “Goes! You’re funny, kid. Anyways, yeah, me and my buddies, we. . .”
Hajime blocked out the noise as the man went on, and on, and on, about a Metallica concert he went to thirty years ago where he went backstage. Every time he was about to chip in with something that could possibly steer the direction of the conversation somewhere else, his voice would overpower Hajime’s with something else. Something about beer, something about an injury, something about a… crowd surf? Just smile and nod, Hinata. Just smile that customer-service smile you haven’t quite mastered and nod.
After a long ten minutes, he rang the guy up for a Taylor Swift album and a Metallica - For Whom The Bell Tolls album. The man said the first one was for his daughter. The payment procedure took a while because he actually had another ‘quick’ story before he had to go. Hajime felt figurative eye-bags wrinkling as he smiled on.
…One enthusiastic, and one forced enthusiastic but secretly relieved goodbye at Metallica-concert-guy's departure…
Now all alone with his thoughts. He pulled out his phone to distract himself, and was met with numbers he wasn't satisfied with. 7:07 PM and a battery of 7%. His shift ended at 9:00 PM. And he didn't even have a charger. Usually he would go down little internet rabbitholes about random things, crime cases, how different foods are made, doomscroll or read just to pass the time, but with his quickly dying battery, looks like that was off the table.
This blows.
Tapping the counter to the dull music that played over the speakers, “At least there's no more crazy customers..” He thought out loud.
And as if this was on cue like some sort of fanfiction, somebody new strolled in.
Hajime jumped. Great. Someone else. His former relaxation stiffened back up into a performatively good posture as he prepared for either nonsense or a quick and easy customer. He hoped for the latter.
In the first moment of watching him pass by, Hinata noted his age, just about the same as his. Maybe he wouldn't be as insufferable as the younger teens or the older men. He blew a sigh of relief, quickly caught in his throat because,
Woah, In the second moment of watching him pass by he noted his beautiful gait, elegant with each step he took. Get a load of this handsome model, He could just kiss the ground he walked on. He just loved the way he looked and moved around. It was so… dreamy. Quickly he was infatuated. What a pleasant surprise on this terrible day!
In the third moment of watching him pass by, all of his lovey-dovey thoughts–no, all thoughts in general froze–
White hair that fell almost past his shoulderblades, tied in a flowy ponytail. He had on a softly colored flannel which only infuriatingly matched and blended so gorgeously with his pale complexion. To top it off, a band-tee that Hajime was familiar with. And actually liked. No wonder he was infatuated so quickly with this boy,
That's Nagito.
His ex.
(Because, of course it is.)
Now a little tense and a little bit–no, a lot a bit–sweating, time just froze.
He froze as he watched Nagito walk through the aisles, phone pulled out and held by his side, presumably a genre in mind. Somehow, Hajime knew exactly where he was going to go. Hajime heard his own subconscious voice say it, so his eyes darted to that one aisle in the store.
Still frozen, his eyes fixed on the genre. Like clockwork, the boy went exactly where he expected, the “Rock/Metal” aisle. He also had a hunch that he knew what band he wanted to find as well, but this time it was only a little hunch. Unable to look away from his ex boyfriend who looked different nowadays, he thought, did I really think those things earlier? He didn't want to kiss the ground Nagito walked on! Not anymore at least!
Not after their relationship staled despite Hajime’s best efforts to keep it intact, after they gradually lost contact, blurring the lines between boyfriends and strangers until…
The line simply disappeared.
They never even properly broke up. They just.. drifted, silently, mutually agreeing on one thing,
that it was, for some reason, over.
And to see him now? In a place like this? After nearly forgetting about him and moving on and everything? It's like some sort of higher power kicked him in the ass and was like ‘Nope! Not today! You won't forget about him yet!’
But why?! They didn't get along, they just weren't meant to be!
It was only a stupid crush…
For the few minutes Nagito searched and skimmed, Hajime just sat in dead silence. You know, the kind of silence and stillness you put yourself through as a child still watching cartoons past their bedtime. The kind of silence you put yourself through around a skittish animal, trying to stay in its presence before inevitably it runs away or attacks,
An absolute silence for the three minutes he watched Nagito hum to himself and look through the records–blissfully unaware of the cashier!!!
What now? This was awkward. Why'd he have to come here? Nagito had never been interested in physical music! Hinata would know, he still had their shared Spotify playlist! And it still popped up on the front page of his library every time he opened the app, a reminder of their drift from
boyfriends…
to complicated…
to friends?...
to strangers!
And it always seemed to pop up when he didn’t want to think about that period of his life.
He was still mad, honestly.
If Nagito wanted to break up, he should have spoken up.
If Nagito had a problem, he should have said something about it…!
…A soft voice from the Rock/Metal aisle yanked Hajime from his thoughts, ever-growing in frustration, “Ah, excuse me, I have a problem–"
Awkward stillness between two ex(?) boyfriends.
Nagito across the wide room with a hand politely raised, slowly lowering, a friendly smile fading into something unreadable as after he turned around to ask for help from the cashier, he found out who the cashier was. Because of course he didn’t notice until now.
A troubled Hinata, eyes wide and olive skin saturated with a blush. He was embarrassed that his first initial thought after eye contact was, ‘wow, he’s gotten prettier,’. It was true though. A year of growth and bodily changes can do that to a person. Make them prettier.
“Oh.. since when did you work here?” Nagito's arms were crossed now, a glint in his eyes that Hajime didn't understand. That tone was familiar. That was Nagito's snarky tone. Hajime actually got to hear it a fair amount back when they were together. Back then it didn’t hurt him but now it felt rude.
“S-Since when did you shop here?” Hajime, despite his anxiety which was glaringly obvious, tried to push past a confident demeanor. It was a good try, one could say. His smile was nervous and forced.
“Mm.” The pale boy, whose hair Hajime couldn't help but notice from afar grew an inch, hummed in response.
A standstill. The same stillness from before. To an outsider, they looked like they were communicating telepathically. Hajime wished he could’ve just sat there at that cash register forever, watching Nagito look through records and hum to himself. Watching him pick albums up, squint at them, then put them back with a grumble. He also wished that Nagito never came here in the first place to avoid all of this awkwardness.
“Uh, did you hear me?” The politeness of Nagito Komaeda was replaced with the entitlement of someone else. His face now sassy, his chin now higher with his hands crossed arrogantly.
“No. Sorry. Uh.. what?” Hajime shook himself away from the thoughts he had, alternating from I missed him so bad–to why is he acting like that?--to why here, why shop here?!
“I said I needed help. So come help me.”
Hajime blinked. Bewilderment. That was a good word to describe how he felt, how everything felt. Embarrassment and confusion swimming his stomach, swirling around to make something ugly and hurting. He wasn't slow. He wasn't stupid, either. Nagito was being passively petty. He was doing that thing he did.
A raise of white eyebrows, a gesture to hurry up,
That thing he did when he wanted to make someone else feel bad and do what he wanted… Hajime walked on jelly legs to the other male, now too close.
“What seems to… be the problem..?” Hajime scratched the back of his head, averting eye-contact. Usually he was good at being helpful. Usually he was good at sitting through long stories with scary men with full eye contact. So why was this so different?...
“Hm? What's wrong, cashier?
You don't seem very confident.
Isn't it your job to help me?”
…Maybe it was the feelings that swam around inside him. “A-Uh.. Yes, of course.” Hinata stuttered, straightening his posture, breathing out all of his emotions and slipping on a weary mask of professionalism. He didn't stop to question why Komaeda called him cashier.
“I’m looking for Acid Bath - When The Kite String Pops… Do you have that?”
Maybe it wasn't just a little hunch.
“Let me look.”
So, Hajime looked through the alphabetically coded aisle of records, his back burning right where Nagito stared through him. His neck was cold and sweaty. His hands felt jittery, trying to compose a professional demeanor just for now, just for a little longer,
“A-Ah, uh.. No Acid Bath..” Murmured the tan boy, ears hot,
“How disappointing.” a sigh from the other,
A little longer—
“Y-Yeah, but, we have this thing where.. where… where….”
—even though,
Stop staring at me like that!
Hajime internally screamed.
“Where?” The boy looked bored, narrowing his eyes after a half-roll.
“You can order it, uh… In advance.”
—Even though he was being such an… insufferable prick!
His racing heart.
“Mhm? I'd like to do that then.”
It hurt—
“O-Okay, come on, to the register.”
—Why was Nagito so unbothered by the past?
Hinata's fingers were slippery–with sweat, with anxious jittering, but with the backspace button and the squiggly red and blue underlines as his best friends he worked through the catastrophe of spelling “Acdif Bagh, no, Accd Bahfgt, no Acid bth, bjajth, bath,” he found the record available in their online selection.
“Scan here.”
Hajime slid forward a card-reader, watching Nagito pull out his debit card and tap it on the screen. Then he followed his long fingertips, repeating in his head seven, seven, seven, zero—oh, how unlucky it is to have such a predictable pin? That's what Hajime always thought. But it was just the quirk of his ex(?!) boyfriend, luck..
The payment was made. In two weeks from now there will be an Acid Bath - When The Kite String Pops record with Nagito Komaeda's name–figuratively–on it. A date to dread, as there would have to be more of whatever this awkward interaction was.
“Thank you, Hajime. I appreciate it.” Nagito half smiled, a polite-ish gesture,
His first name had never sounded better on anyone else's tongue.
“Y-You're welcome, I…”
The turn of a foot, the turn of a back. It was so sudden. In and out, like he barely knew Hajime. His plaid flannel, that colour, so good on him…
“I…”
A few short strides, a debit card slipped into a wallet and a wallet slipped into a tight pocket. The anger, the confusion, the embarrassment and the anxiety in Hinata's stomach all churned into something new. Regret. Longing. Missing.
“I…”
All those answered texts going responded- to read- to delivered- to delivered- to delivered!!!---
—Before he could control it, everything he texted, it spilled out at once,
“Wait.”
“Nagito, come back.”
“Don't leave yet.”
His mouth felt like a floodgate. Once it was open, it wouldn't stop.
“Can we just talk?”
“Please, just one talk.”
A halt at the entrance to the little quarter at the mall. The one where barely anyone went in anymore. The one lost with time,
Hajime's breath was shaky against his own ears. He couldn't tell if it was just his own erratic breath, but was that a… snicker?
Lost with time,
despite Hinata’s best efforts,
oh, this record shop felt just like their relationship,
His breath hitched as he tried to listen.
The snickering got louder, transitioning into soft laughter
Nagito turned around to look at his ex(?!?!) boyfriend, his smile wide on his face and wrinkling his cheeks. His eyebrows pressed together and raised in bliss.
What was so funny right now?
“What's so funny?” Hajime's own brows furrowed, though it was more irritation than anything. Nagito's laughter was a little bit louder, a hand softly clutched against his own stomach, covering the word crowbar in grim, edgy writing on his t-shirt–the third metal band Hajime could name.
“I knew I could count on you, Hajime!!” Two hands dramatically thrown up,
The cashier was taken aback, “Wh- huh…?”
“I knew you would tell me to come back. I knew it!” The fists in the air clenched, the smile widening,
“W-What? I'm confused!”
Nagito came back into the record store, making those beautiful strides Hajime was gawking at earlier, then slapped his hands against the table and leaned his taller body in as far as he could. Now dangerously face-to face with a sputtering and wide-eyed Hinata,
“I distanced myself to see how far you would go to get me back!”
All of that confusion, all of those texts…
So close, he was so close now,
“I'm so glad…”
All of the yearning, complication,
He was so, so, so, so close now,
“...That you want me, Hajime!”
Hajime was seething with anger, with sadness, with longing and yearning and missing, missing, missing,
All this time, he just wanted to communicate with Komeada. All this time, he was holding together the pieces of a puzzle until he let them all fall, scattering around in pieces until he, exhausted, came up with a conclusion that the pieces just simply didn’t fit,
He just wanted to have one talk. Closure, a second try, something.
He just wanted
to have
one
talk,
One talk, one conversation that could wait. Images resurfaced–where Nagito was naked, all to himself, all slim body and bare skin, all moaning and red-faced. He needed to touch, to feel, to something. He was about to grab Komaeda's hands, but Komaeda already had his, and they were now kissing with reckless abandon in the record store where Hajime worked.
Talk about over the counter.
It went from an experimental peck on the lips, but it quickly intensified. Komeada’s tongue was insistent on Hajime’s lips, and Hajime, who was already weak enough for Komaeda, let him in. Feverish, that’s how they felt. Unable to pull away until Nagito was out of breath, but even still, Hajime locked his face in with strong hands.
Every desperate text,
Hajime panted, burying his face back in the others and whining sadly. This couldn’t end so soon. He didn’t care if he couldn’t breathe, he kissed him harder until they both couldn’t breathe. Lightheaded and high on lust, it only became sloppier and frenzied and painful as teeth glided against sensitive flesh. Hands slid down each other's bodies, exploring and probing and seeing how low they could go until it wasn't okay. Nagito’s rested on the small of Hajime’s back, Hajime’s found Nagito’s shoulderblades,
holding tight like he might slip away again.
After a kiss that still left them unsatisfied, not enough, it could never be enough, the two forced themselves away from each other, eyes flickering to the open entrance of the record shop. Broad daylight. Work hours. Public. Excitement and anxiety stirring until both hearts raced faster.
Every hour spent with his phone beside him, ringer on,
“Why?!” Hajime demanded whined for an answer.
Hands on Hajime's shoulders. Kissing again. Kissing hard. Nagito growled, a noise Hajime never heard from him before but made him feel all tingly and dumb and even more lightheaded. Saliva trickled down Hinata's chin and beaded at the bottom. His face burned with the tint he knew was there. He wanted to kiss the ground Komaeda walked on, he wanted to kiss the ground Komaeda walked on, he wanted…
A string of drool, broken, landing on Hinata's already messy chin. A lewd moan.
“Haahh.. Nagito, I miss you, kiss me again.”
Fuck, that was pathetic.
The taller boy was staggering over behind the counter, puffy lips in a trembling, way-too-excited smile. He pushed Hajime into the shelves behind, a few things thudding and scattering across the floor but Nagito didn't care.
A pout on Hajime’s face,
“B-But why, why did you…”
Hajime wiped his own chin, hands tremoring with excitement as he lifted them for easy access. Eyes that searched for answers bored into Nagito’s own. His mind felt so slushed up with lust that he would let Komaeda kill him if he really wanted.
“Hahah...” Soft, but manic laughter, “I missed you too, shhh…”
Nagito grabbed the wrists, grip tight, reassuring.
If only Nagito could hold him this tight while they were together, maybe they could have stayed together. Maybe those puzzle pieces didn’t have to scatter around and maybe they could have found pieces that fit. Breaking contact, waiting for him to do something about it, all for what? Because his self esteem was so low that he couldn’t imagine anybody staying with him? A test of loyalty? Why couldn’t he just communicate?!
...
“Forget it, you’re too far away…”
Hajime ripped his hands away, then pulled his ex(??!!?!) boyfriend to his chest which heaved in a similar erratic rhythm as Nagito’s. His wrists were grabbed once more.
“Needy boy…That’s what you are, aren’t you? Texting me over..
hahaha, and over,
hah,
and over….”
Hajime’s face morphed,
“You saw those…? Y-You..”
His breath hitched when he noticed something.
“Ahhn, what are you–”
Grinding. Grinding. Grinding. Nagito was grinding on his thigh and looking down on him with a smug ass smile. Hajime could only imagine the lewd expression on his own face, turned on far beyond his own expectations. It felt like returning to a drug after being sober for a long time. A year, to be exact.
“We're in public, I'm at work….”
He breathed, his own body responding by rushing more blood to his groin.
“I can stop if you want, but you won't let me…
Oh, It really is true! You want me this bad!”
White eyebrows raised, mystified, blissful
Hajime realized just how hard he was gripping onto Komaeda's hands, keeping him close, keeping him grinding right there. “Because..uugh..”
It felt so fucking good. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to talk. He just wanted this,
He was busted. Might as well admit to it.
“Because, don't stop…. God, this is wrong, b-but I want it, I–”
Upon hearing consent, Nagito directed the other boy to the counter, hands unwrapping from his wrists and finding their place on his hips as he guided him to bend over. He pushed away the card-reader, the keyboard too, unjangling some cords and throwing them out of his sight. Already ten minutes in and Hajime’s workplace looked like a discombobulated mess.
Hajime could feel his heart thumping, his chest heaving against the counter. He took a glance at the entrance of the record shop. Would Nagito still do this even if it weren’t such a hidden place in the mall? He knew Nagito could be kind of publicly indecent but would he still have done it? Honestly, Hajime didn’t have the brainpower to think of this possibility. All of his focus was on the hands roaming his backside and the entrance, the entrance, where anybody could walk in—
“Do you remember our safeword?”
A somewhat-rough hand between his shoulderblades, the other hand sliding downward, a delighted, excited hum from Nagito.
“Y-Yes,
but here?! Nagito, anybody could walk in.”
The moment Nagito heard uncertainty in Hajime’s voice, he pulled away,
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” The answer came so quickly that he nearly cut Nagito off.
“Haha.... I thought as much…” So Nagito returned, body pressed against Hajime's back, stuck to him like glue, grinding again.
On the edge of the counter, just where his body bent, Hajime could feel his erection pressing, twitching against the edge. It strained pleasurably. He bucked his hips into it, tip notched against his own desk, making his eyes wince and an impatient moan gurgle from his throat.
Nagito lifted his hips to unfasten both pairs of pants, yanking them right at the dips of their thighs. A safe distance. If anybody came in, they could just scramble for their own public decency.
“Hurry up, hurry up…” Hajime moaned, unapologetically impatient, heart hammering in his ears.
Hajime's eyes were fixed on the entrance, uncertainty and unbridled lust making a painful concoction in his stomach.
“Hurry–shit, be careful…”
If anybody came in, they could scramble for their own public decency, if anybody came in they could, if anybody came in, if anybody came in–
A thoughtful hum from the white-haired boy, then the crude sound of spitting on fingers.
“Relax, Hajime, or it won’t work.”
“How am I meant to relax?!”
“Shhh, if somebody comes in we’ll duck down. Does that make you feel better?”
In, and out, Hajime breathed,
“Y-Yes.”
Warmth, wetness on his most delicates, dripping down his perineum, He shivered as lanky fingers inserted themselves inside. Twisting, scissoring, with the kind of practiced ease Hinata was used to and remembered fondly, only it had been a whole year.
“Please, hurry up…”
Hajime was sure he sounded pathetic.
“Hajime, relax, you’re making this hard for me…”
The fingers stopped their probing, stilling inside. Nagito brought up his other hand to put in Hinata’s mouth, gentle, affirming, soothing almost,
Hajime let the tension in his body unwind, slacking against the counter. Long fingers pushed deeper. Fuck talking, he wanted this, forever…
“Good job..”
A comment with a tone between praise and sarcasm, whatever its intentions, had Hajime moaning against fingers on his tongue and rubbing himself against the counter.
He was sure he looked pathetic too,
Nagito's scissoring hand was replaced with something larger, thicker, rubbing itself on the outside of the tight ring of muscle excitedly. Hajime stiffened again, the fingers in his mouth exiting and resting on his bottom lip.
“Do what you did last time. Relax, it’s okay… you're doing good…”
Hajime breathed out, mind fuzzy from the praise. He forgot how deliciously weakening it felt to be spoken to that way, he couldn't help but rest again.
Once Nagito deemed his ex(...) boyfriend’s body was ready, he pushed inward his hips. His cock slipped in with a slow drag, a stretch of muscles so tight he could only shiver and grunt. “Fuck..” Murmured the pale boy, mixing
through a symphony of unholy sounds below him, semi-controlled in volume.
Komaeda’s hands trailed down from his shoulderblades, down his back until both were put on each cheeks, spreading them to try and ease his way in.
“Relax, relax,”
Holding him like this, Nagito managed to get another inch inside.
He let his hands wander, gentle in their caresses and reassuring in their tenderness. Nimble, skinny fingers snaked under Hinata and found his… troubling position.
“Oh?”
Hands felt around, feeling the achingly hard tip, glans against the counters edge, subtly humping like he was mindless,
like a dog in heat
“Oh no, that… must hurt. Don't worry, I'll help…”
Nagito peeled back floral patterned boxers, hands only shaking slightly, and caressed a fingertip down the sensitive head, down the underside–shivering, Hajime felt his legs shivering, his whimpers stuttering past his throat–downnnn—the base with dramatic slowness to stop at this balls, cupping them in his hands to feel their heaviness.
A grateful snicker,
“Hajime, you're so hard!”
“S-Shhh!!
Gonna get caught!…”
Hajime's whisper was seething past his teeth,
With ease, Nagito got the rest inside, relishing in the tight, suctioning heat. He'd managed to distract Hajime enough to actually breach through, how lucky?
“G-God…”
Hajime mewled,
As he slowly pulled himself out, and shimmied himself back in, he stroked the tanned cock that curved under the workplace counter—now without boxers obstructing it. On every upstroke he twisted his hand to capture as much pleasure, as much of that delicious quivering Hajime did, as much of those blissed out gasps, those choked out moans as he possibly could.
Because it felt so good to be able to have Hajime all to himself again.
And Hajime was so thankful for Komaeda's
long,
soft fingers
After a few moments of cautious, warm-up fucking, Komaeda pulled himself out fully, giving one last stroke before those long, soft fingers pulled away. This earned a disappointed whine and brown eyes peering over his shoulders to see why he would stop so soon.
“Ahh..” Nagito breathed,
“I'm so grateful to be inside you again..”
He dragged his reddened, engorged tip over Hajime's very wet entrance, shuddering and smiling a doped out smile. It never felt this good to tease…
“Feel that?” He asked, lining back up with confidence.
“S-Stop.. ungh.. messing around, Nagito…”
Eyes still fixated on
the open entrance of the record shop.
Komaeda pushed himself back in, easier this time. The stretch burnt, but the full feeling Hajime got each time that narrow tip pressed inside of him, twitching deep inside of him with how grateful it was to be around something so warm and tight,
It made it all worth it.
Slow, cautious fucking sped up and found a rythym that had Hajime gripping the counter, fingers slipping against smooth wood with nothing to grip. It had him choking over his own sounds, sputtering and whimpering, it had him begging for more and begging for less and begging, begging, begging,
It had him going crazy,
“Oh..Nagito, please Nagito,”
He cried. He hiccuped.
“P-Please, Nagito, fuck-”
A particularly calculated thrust, cock lodged deep and pressed against a bud of somesuch. Hajime gasped then went dead silent which summoned curiosity in the man behind him. Nagito rocked his hips experimentally, tip grinding against that little spot.
“Ghk!-” The noise squeaked past a dry throat deprived of oxygen, Nagito unsheathed entirely, a mesmerized sound leaving his lips.
Then he rammed into that same spot
Hajime's body stiffened, arched in a way he couldn't control. It felt like an electric current was coursing through him, sending stars behind his eyes with every hard pounding he received. Against his own will, he released flood of desperate sounds, making music with the skin-on-skin slapping that only got faster and faster and fucking faster.
“Ah.. ahah.. hahahahah!!”
Nagito cackled.
Hajime had not the resources to shush him. Not when he was being fucked like this. Not when his legs threatened to give out and not when his mouth was preoccupied with crying and moaning and gurgling and begging and,
“I found it…
haha…
I found it!!”
Eyes
glued to the
entrance
Losing…
Focus…
Nagito's hands shifted from the other male's back down to the dip where his hips met waist. It was easy to piston himself in and out like this. The sounds and sights below him, Hajime's ridden up shirt and sweat-slicked ass. The sight of his cock, all nine inches in– and out–and in and–out… in a frantic rhythm.
“N-Nagito..!”
a desperate gulp for air
“Nagito!”
a shuddered breath,
“Nagito!”
and shouts of pleasure
he couldn't
help but let out
“What is it?”
A gruff, husky voice,
“You don't want…”
Taken over by lust
“To get caught, do you?”
A stinging slap on the side of his thigh, making him bury his head in his arms, his hands that gripped the air for nothing.
Too preoccupied
To watch the entrance,
“Hah,
so calm down…”
Calm down, then relax, then scream, then whisper, Hajime couldn't keep up with it. His lewd, shameful sounds were muffled by his arms that he buried his face in. He could care less if they were fucking on a damn stage.
It felt
too
good to
care.
Soft, long fingers rubbed circles on the red that now bloomed over Hajime's thigh, trailing down to find that dick again that was pathetically hanging there, twitching in the air,
Neglected no more.
In the sea of muffled shouts, Nagito could make out his name. He smiled madly, stroking the boy with a pace that matched his own thrusts. A stark contrast to the careful sex from earlier.
“Does that feel good?”
“Mmnghh!”
“Hm? I can't
hear you…”
“Mmhm!”
Nagito chuckled to himself, thrusts going deeper and slower, stopping to grind himself against that prostate he found. His mouth wide open, a small bead of drool dripping down. A sudden clench made him moan rather unsightly with his open mouth.
A spasming body and twitching cock, flexing with each squirt of cum that dripped over long, soft fingers,
“Haaahhh.…
Hajime… wow…”
Mystified.
Thankful.
Lost in bliss, and
still not done.
Nagito doubled down, still stroking the boy in his post orgasmic bliss. He must've been used to relaxing after touching himself because his slack body stiffened right back up when those cum-slicked fingers didn't stop stroking.
Nagito rubbed over the head, his oversensitized glans. He made Hajime cry, made him scream into his arms, made him writhe and squirm and beg.
“Please, please, please!” muffled pleas,
“No,”
A drawn out stroke
over Hinata's most sensitive parts
“Not until
I cum…”
Nagito's hips stuttered, every thrust was erratic. The way Hajime's body shook and vibrated now, the high pitched sounds he made, he felt himself going delirious with how good it all felt. Distantly heard begging, but no safeword. He felt Hajime try to squirm out of grasp, but no safeword. For a moment he was worried that Hajime felt like he couldn't say the safeword, but pleasure yanked him away from those thoughts.
Overwhelming pleasure. He felt like the world around him stopped spinning as he focused solely on the clench around his cock, an overstimulated cry that sounded better than all the rest combined, and another wet release dripping down his fingers.
Never in the two years they dated
had Hajime ever managed to do
something like that.
And he was sure he'd never.
fucked someone
this fast in
his whole life.
He couldn't hold it now. He didn't care if it was loud. He growled and he moaned, he let all nine inches further overstimulate the boy under him after his double orgasm. Soon Nagito moaned pleasurably, going as deep as possible so he could fuck his release into him. He painted Hajime's insides with it, not stopping until every last drop was sealed inside.
Sitting there for what felt like hours...
In bliss...
Everything tingling…
Felt perfect…
His ex(🚫)
lover
under him again. . .
He sat like that for a few long moments, desperate breaths and small whines filled the empty record shop. It was really a miracle that nobody came in–even if this was the emptiest quarter in the entire mall. Nagito's luck had a habit of doing things like that.
With his dick now softening, Nagito pulled it out with a pained hiss. Oversensitive now. He carefully tucked it away and looked at the mess under him. Cum stained the floor in splatters, dripped out of Hinata's abused hole. His dick hung softening, appearing painful with how red–no, purplish it looked.
“Are you okay?” Nagito's voice
was soft and careful now.
No response.
Still gasping for air,
still crying.
Nagito felt a wave of shame.
“Shit… I'm terrible..
I kept going when I
should have stopped.
I'm sorry. I’m so…
Huh?”
Hajime stood up on jelly legs, visibly trembling, pulled his pants up and let them sit unfastened at his waist, only to cover himself up.
The world stopped spinning again. He wrapped his arms around Nagito and let his weight sink into him. Crying, smiling, what the hell was this?
“I missed you
so fucking bad.”
“Never
ignore me again."