Work Text:
Ritsu is sin in that outfit.
Mao's hands twitch over his computer's keyboard just at the thumbnail of the newest series his childhood best friend starred in, and he can physically feel the red creep through his arms and up his face at only the preview.
Oh no.
There are many things that Ritsu likes doing—napping, singing, playing piano, mostly napping. As he steps away from the other members of EVIL NUM+, he remembers how much he doesn't like sweating.
Feeling hot, clammy, and way too moist within the confines of leather and buckles and too-tight tank tops, Ritsu excuses himself from the rest of the group, snatching a water bottle before stumbling outside the room.
Filming had finished days ago—they were only finishing up the last details of the show intro performance choreography, really, so he doesn't really have to work until they're actually filming, right? It's useless to keep perfecting something that was perfect already. No need to stretch his stretched capabilities too thin. Work smarter, not harder.
Huffing to himself, Ritsu takes a swig from the water bottle, sighing as the coolness hits his tongue. He needed that, really, after all the clamoring around with people he usually isn't used to clamoring around with. Knights is an organized mess. This is Haakun, and other people he doesn't spend much time with at all, lest he makes his rare appearances at circle meetings. Therefore, an unorganized mess.
He lets some water drip from his lips, rolling down his chin and into his shirt. The cool trail feels like heaven against red-flushed skin, and he hums in delight to himself.
An almost comical gulp sounds from somewhere else in the hallway.
Blinking, Ritsu quirks an eyebrow, slowly screwing the lid back onto his water as he glances around. And yet, when his eyes fall on a red face with red hair, his guard crumbles immediately, heels clack-clacking over to his Maakun, who is still standing stiffer than a statue next to a vending machine.
"Maakuuun~" He sings, falling against Mao's side out of pure instinct and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Did you come to see me? I was waiting for you to come sweep me away, it's so hot and moist and gross in there.."
"Heh. Eheh. Yeah," is all Mao decides to grace him with as a response, and Ritsu frowns at the tone—it's not an affirmative (even if Ritsu already knows it's true, he just know Mao wouldn't admit it), it's the same nervous tone Mao has when faced with an uncomfortable situation. Frowning, Ritsu steps back, quickly scanning Mao's rigid frame, shoulders tense and fingers clenched into tight fists.
"Maakun's all tense. What's the matter? Are you uncomfortable?" He asks, genuinely concerned. Mao has struggled with anxiety all his life—Ritsu would know, he's listed as a comfort in his diagnosis—and this seems eerily similar to when he gets stuck in a freeze response.
However, one physical component of his figure deviates from the image of fear—his face is dusted with a blush, not from heat, nor exertion.
Ritsu glances down at his own outfit, and a smile tugs at his lips as Mao's eyes follow the same route as his own.
"U-Um." Mao intelligently responds, the wet noise of spit momentarily getting caught in his throat accompanying his stutter. His lips slightly tremble, his hands clench tighter, and his rapid blinks might as well be audible.
Ritsu prays to God that he's not already smiling. "You like my outfit." He states, simply, and Mao squeaks, eyes darting to a nearby bush that was clearly more interesting than Ritsu. Ritsu scoffs. "Usually, compliments are said out loud, Maakun."
"I, um," Mao stutters out, clearly tripping over his thoughts as he tries to cobble a sentence together, "I heard from Hokuto that, uh, you guys were filming, um, something else.. soon."
"Evidently." Ritsu replies with a deadpan.
"Evidently– I mean, yeah, yeah, evidently, yeah, sorry, I'm sorry– I just. You, um. I've never seen you in.. something.. like that."
Ritsu tilts his head, looking at a very clearly flustered Mao. With the heels, he has to look down a little, Mao having to look up, and he's starting to wonder if that's doing things to him.
"You seem a little surprised." He teases, stepping towards him again. Mao instinctively backs up, not unlike a prey animal, and his back hits the vending machine with the mechanical thud. His head whips back to the surface he's seeking cover against, then back to Ritsu, down Ritsu and up Ritsu, and he audibly gulps.
Maakun really is the cutest, huh?
His eyes crinkling with a smile, Ritsu leans forward, his lips ghosting next to Mao's ear as he whispers, "How about you take care of me? I'm just aching to get out of here.. I could use a nice bath and a soda, y'know~"
That bath idea seemed to completely fly over Mao's head as soon as he got them back to his house.
Why Mao took him to his own empty home was beyond Ritsu upon entering, since the dorms were closer, or they could go to Ritsu's family home with the nice and fancy bathtubs. But as Mao pulled into the driveway and peeled his sweaty hands off of the steering wheel, unlocked the house after fumbling with the key, and (very dutifully) let Ritsu walk in the house first, Mao's intentions finally clicked in his head.
Mao all but slams the door behind them, Ritsu watching the ordeal with slight amusement. That smile is quickly wiped off his face once Mao grabs his waist (with one hand!) and pins him against the wall, his mouth immediately pressed against Ritsu's neck as he feels up Ritsu through the entire outfit. His head spins with Mao's forwardness, since that usually starts a little further into the bedroom—but maybe Mao was just finally listening to all the times Ritsu begged him to be just a little more possessive without Ritsu having to egg him on.
Ritsu whines at the insistent groping, eyelids fluttering as he grabs at a cabinet for purchase. "Maa– Maakun, what's gotten into you? Is me drink– hhn, drinking water really that.. exciting for you?"
Though clear as day Ritsu was just poking fun at him, Mao completely ignores the jab, "This outfit is crazy," He says, pants against his neck, "It's crazy. Who even let this happen? This is–" Hands wander over the back of the corset, tracing over the strings, and Mao lets out a stuttering gasp, "oh my god."
Ritsu has to stop himself from letting out a snicker, though Mao assists him by groping his ass hard, and that laugh turns into a moan instead. "I– Hhn– I met the.. designer.. Was some old guy or.. something, nnh, Maakun–"
Mao, unrelenting in his handsiness, gropes Ritsu's ass with both hands this time, kneading slightly and pulling his cheeks apart teasingly. Ritsu throws his head back against the wall, eyes blearily looking towards the door. The walls of Mao's family home are practically lined with childhood family photos, photos of his sister, and different certificates Mao's earned from school over the years, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to ward off the embarrassed feeling of Mao wrecking him right in the entryway of a house he practically grew up in alongside him.
"Wish there was.. a zipper down here." Mao traces his finger over the crotch of Ritsu's leather pants, and Ritsu trembles, one hand clawing at Mao's shoulder while the other stays latched to the cabinet (which, he now notes, has a framed picture of Mao's entire family on it). "Don't even wanna take this off. This is insane. How did Tenshouin-senpai even approve of this for ES idols? Oh my god."
Mao's debauchery bleeds through every word, leaving Ritsu trembling with each breathy gasp he makes. His first thought is embarrassing—Mao is so outwardly horny, it's almost lecherous, and he can tell he's absolutely soaked from it. Does he like being lusted for? Does this even count as lusting? His words are so descriptive, with the way his hands rake over Ritsu's entire body, and the only word Ritsu can think up in his haze to describe Mao is salacious.
Suddenly, Mao starts guiding Ritsu elsewhere. First, he thinks Mao's taking him to his bedroom, but when they start going in the opposite direction, Ritsu is, for once, caught genuinely off-guard. Mao is leading him towards the kitchen.
"Wait, wait, wait, where– Why are we going this way? Isn't– Aren't the stairs in the hall? Wh–"
"Parents're out for a while, I checked. Masumi's with a friend. Doesn't have a key on her. I checked." Mao says offhandedly, and Ritsu whips his head to look at him, incredulous.
"You checked with your entire family just so you could fuck me?"
Mao's eyebrows furrow as he looks away, letting out a wry laugh. "What? I– No, that makes it sound.. worse than it is."
"You did check with your family so you could fuck me! I mean, Maakun's a perv, but that's, like, a whole new low. You check with Obaachan, too? You know, you never know if she'll swing by.."
"Ritsu–"
Mao's face is flushed red, and he looks almost irritated, if Ritsu didn't already know he was just insanely sexually frustrated. His eyes rake down, met directly with the obvious tent in Mao's pants, and his cunt practically throbs.
As Ritsu's eyes wander back up, the two of them make eye contact, and Ritsu is suddenly intensely aware of the situation he's in.
Mao didn't just clear the house to fulfill a twisted fantasy. With how pent up he is, he's going to leave Ritsu screaming. He cleared the house because he doesn't want Ritsu to hold that back.
"Bend over the counter."
Ritsu can't do anything but obey.
He stretches his upper body over the countertop of the island, his heels making the process a little uncomfortable, but he manages. Arms folded under his head, he rests his forehead on his forearms, glancing back at Mao as he makes sure to keep his ass up, just as he knows Mao prefers. If not, he would just order him to, anyways. He knows how he is when they're alone together.
Ritsu's eyes follow as Mao slowly walks up behind him, feeling up his thighs, then his ass, then his sides, and as his foot gently nudges at Ritsu's ankle, he quickly corrects his posture. Mao steps back, almost admiring his work at making Ritsu so pliant. And then his hand raises up, and Ritsu's eyes shut just before it lands on his ass with a smack.
Ritsu makes a choked noise, spit catching in his throat in surprise even when he watched Mao's arm wind up with his very own eyes. His torso drags up across the countertop with how he jolts, and in a mix of pain and embarrassment, Ritsu's eyes bead with tears.
"That's how I like you." Mao says from behind him, and Ritsu's cunt throbs with how Mao talks to him like he's a prized possession. He feels hands undoing his pants as Mao presses his chest against Ritsu's back. "Kick off your heels so I can get these off of you."
Ritsu, dutiful and obedient as ever, obeys without a second thought. It takes a bit of fumbling, but he manages to kick the shoes off with the right movements, and Mao peels the leather away from his sweaty skin, then entirely off, discarding them on the floor somewhere with his heels.
"I wanted you to keep those heels on, but I can't have you scraping the tile. My parents would be able to tell." Mao says, curling a finger at the elastic of Ritsu's boxers. "You want these off?"
"Yes, please, yes–"
He barely even sounds like himself anymore, nowhere near the same Ritsu that was teasing Mao for liking this outfit so much less than 20 minutes ago. But he's really reaching his limit, with how slowly Mao's peeling off his clothes, how direct his orders are, and how he can feel his hard-on poking against his clothed ass through Mao's own sweatpants.
Mao lets out a sigh. "I'm too nice to you, you know." Slowly but surely, Mao pulls Ritsu's boxers off, a string of slick sticking to the crotch as he does so. "Thank me for being so nice to you."
"Th-Thank you, Maakun, thank you, thank you–" Ritsu gasps, legs already trembling as he struggles to keep himself propped up just to Mao's liking, and he wordlessly lifts each foot so Mao can pull his boxers off and throw it into the building pile of clothes on the kitchen tile.
"Good boy. Show me where you want me." Mao steps back, much to Ritsu's dismay, and Ritsu quickly moves his hands to grab his own ass, spreading himself wide for Mao's waiting gaze.
"Here, please, Maakun, can't take it anymore, I really can't, I need– Please, please, need your cock, so empty, please–"
Mao hums for a moment, pretending to weigh his options, and sighs as he undoes the tie of his sweatpants. "I'm really too nice to you. A lot of guys would just leave you here, but I just can't bear to see you like this."
He doesn't even pull his pants all the way down, nor his boxers, and Ritsu's face burns with humiliation at the difference between Mao's casual sweats and tee and Ritsu's revealing stage outfit, half clothed, with his torso bent over a kitchen countertop in Mao's family home.
Mao grips himself from behind Ritsu, letting saliva drip onto his unoccupied hand before haphazardly slicking himself up. Ritsu can feel Mao's eyes raking his body, gaze searingly hot, and he's practically shaking with anticipation.
Mao wordlessly presses his tip at Ritsu's hole, rubbing at the entrance with his left hand holding his hip, and Ritsu mewls.
"Eager." Mao quietly comments, and it's clear he was saying it to himself, but Ritsu whimpers all the same. His tip presses just a little more, and suddenly pushes inside, and Ritsu melts into the countertop with a drawn-out moan.
"Shh, good boy, Ricchan." Mao praises, pushing in ever-so slowly, "Is that good? You like that?"
"Yeeeah.. Ooh, 's so good.." He moans, cheek pressed against the marble as drool quickly accumulates in his mouth. The way Mao's cock drags against his walls is delicious, and his body slowly drags further up the countertop as he grabs at an edge for purchase.
"I'll go faster, okay? I know you like faster." When Ritsu lets out a soft haahn, Mao chuckles, "You're really insatiable, you know."
With that, Mao bottoms out in a single quick thrust, and Ritsu chokes on air as he trembles at the fullness of it all. Mao may not be absurdly long, but he's a decent size, and he's thick—thicker than anything Ritsu had ever owned, since he really thought he preferred length before the two of them started hooking up, but after their first time fumbling around with one another, he found that toys weren't the same as Maakun. He could never really get the same satisfaction after that.
Mao's thrusts are fast, powerful, and the feeling could really only be described as being pounded. His acrylics rake at the marble surface, one hand still grasping at the edge of the counter as the other has moved to support his forehead. His eyes brim with unshed tears, and with a particularly rough thrust, they begin to spill, Ritsu sniffling between whines and outright moans.
Mao's hands are digging into his hips, holding him in place and using him as he pleases, and in his daze, Ritsu feels like he could get fucked like this forever. His mind conjures up situations—Mao keeping him in his lap as he taps away at his computer, Mao having him keep his lips wrapped around his cock as he practices guitar—and as his eyes blearily blink up to a framed certificate on the wall from Mao's elementary school, his cheeks burn in shame.
Mao is so shamelessly ruining him in the same kitchen they've cooked countless meals together, and something about that, regretfully, makes the slick noises between the two of them even slicker. His hands move to hold his ass open, with clear access to his cunt, and Ritsu whimpers at being displayed in a place he's seen brimming with people so often. Is it wrong, to get off on this? Is Mao getting off on it, too? He can feel the lines of the corset digging indents into his skin, and his eyelids flutter as he loses the thought.
"Dirty slut. You really like being on display, huh?" Mao says between grunts, because despite the fact he's literally balls-deep in Ritsu's pussy, he can never really shut up for too long. "Answer me."
"Aahn, y-yeah, yes– Mhm–" He whimpers, and Mao thrusts just a little harder at the answer. He already knows how much Mao gets off on seeing him wrecked—maybe there's an extra gratification at seeing it in a setting that's usually public, Ritsu couldn't know—but the feeling of Mao pulsing inside of him is enough for him to know he really likes this.
Maybe it's seeing Ritsu in a stage outfit in his own home. Or maybe it's the juxtaposition of his own casual clothes and Ritsu dressed like some sort of succubus, but from what he can tell, Mao is unbearably turned on, and Ritsu himself is quickly hurdling towards the edge.
"You look so good like this. You should wear this more. You should wear this all the time." Mao continues yammering, and Ritsu's tongue slightly lolls out as his eyes slip shut, chest heaving against marble as the chains on the outfit jingle, one sleeve beginning to slip off his shoulder as Mao begins biting and sucking at the newly exposed skin. "Maybe not all the time. If you did, I.. wouldn't be able to.. Hah.. Keep my hands off of you."
Mao is panting in his ear now, and Ritsu squeezes his eyes shut as their hot breaths mingle within their close proximity. Mao's hand reaches down underneath his thigh, and then his leg is pushed up, knee resting on the countertop as Mao drives into him with almost feverish speed, and Ritsu screams as he slams repeatedly into his g-spot.
"Maa- Maakun, ooh, Maakun, Maakun– C-Can't, no, no, can't, 'm gonna, 'm gonna– Hhn–!"
Ritsu cums with a broken moan, shaking violently as his hole spasms around Mao, pleasure teetering on pain as Mao just keeps fucking him like nothing happened. He goes boneless against the counter, moaning unabashedly against the marble as their noises echo throughout the front of the house.
With Mao's force, the wooden base of the kitchen island creaks, the doors of the cabinets clunking against one another as the metal paper towel holder screeches against the countertop with every inch his thrusts push it forward. Ritsu is sobbing, tears tracking down his cheeks as he feels himself tumble over the edge again, his hole throbbing, and Mao holds onto his waist tight with his chest pressed flush against his back as he unfurls with a grunt, cumming deep inside of him with a breathless moan.
The two of them are quiet for what feels like hours, but was probably only seven minutes tops. They're both panting with exertion, and Ritsu feels Mao's load dripping out of him as Mao slowly softens. Mao's face is shoved into Ritsu's neck, mindlessly kissing and sucking marks into the skin, and he smiles at Mao's clinginess after sex. It's almost like he wasn't wrecking his insides just a few minutes ago.
"I need to clean this up." Mao mumbles against his skin, and all Ritsu can do is mumble a sound that somewhat resembles an affirmative.
"How long until your family gets home?" He manages to slur out, despite his face still being pressed against the counter and his increasing tiredness.
"Long enough," is all Mao says before he blindly reaches for the paper towels, completely missing them.
"Do any of you know where Sakuma went? He said he would be back quickly, but he's been gone for over an hour." Hokuto says, turning to the rest of their group after shutting off the practice music.
The group exchanges quizzical looks between one another, Hinata shrugging as Hajime sighs.
"Ritsu-oniichan has the tendency to.. run off. You really can't be sure when he'll decide to come back.." Hajime frowns, "He probably got tired, or maybe felt lightheaded. I trust him to value his practice! I'm sure he'll be back soon."
Sitting up from his spot in the corner of the room, Natsume stretches his arms above his head, sighing, "You have too much faith in hiM."