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“A-ah, Iwa-cha—“
Hajime slaps a hand over Tooru’s mouth, his other hand still busy stretching Tooru open. “Shut up,” he hisses, pressing his chest more firmly to Tooru’s back, curving along with him. Tooru shifts, groans muffled by Hajime’s palm, but not enough. If anyone opened the door to the public restroom they’ve taken refuge in, they were definitely going to figure out what was going on within the first minute.
“Do you want everyone to hear us?”
Tooru shakes his head fervently, a droplet of drool dribbling past his open mouth and onto Hajime’s palm. Hajime probably shouldn’t, but he finds it incredibly attractive. “Then shut up,” he adds, secretly revelling in the desperate whine that Tooru lets out at the prospect of having to stay quiet.
In all honesty, they both know it’s not difficult for Tooru to stay quiet. Contrary to popular belief, Tooru isn’t loud in bed, isn’t a screamer in any way. If it feels good, then Tooru’s mouth should be open in a silent scream, limbs jerking and tears rolling down his face from what could be considered overstimulation.
But sex like this, right now, has never felt good. It’s desperate, it’s angry, it’s mostly because Hajime is sick of Tooru throwing his affections left and right, flirting with a cashier there and winking at a Starbucks barista over there, and Tooru knows it. It may be angry on Hajime’s side, but it’s definitely taunting on Tooru’s.
Hajime pops the button of his jeans open with his free hand, growling into the nape of Tooru's neck, and shuffles his pants and underwear down just enough to give his erection much needed reprieve. He pulls a condom packet from the inside of his pocket. Digging his teeth into the side of the foil, he rips it open, shakily pulling it on. The packet drops to the floor with a muted sound, barely heard over Tooru's heavy breathing.
An idea strikes him, then. Something to make the both of them quiet, but more importantly, to give Tooru a reason to be quiet.
“Unless,” Hajime leans forward, whispering the words right into to Tooru’s ear, “you want to be heard.”
A full-body shiver runs through Tooru, one that Hajime can intimately feel beneath his fingertips. He shakes his head again, albeit more hesitantly, with jerkier movements. Hajime tilts his head. “No?” he breathes, relishing in Tooru's reactionary jerk.
Tooru shakes his head once more, the drool dripping from his lips smearing against Hajime’s palm.
“What?” Hajime whispers again, reaching for the extra packet of lube that Tooru holds between shaking fingers. “You don’t want them to find out how good you sound, when I’m fucking you like this?”
Tooru doesn’t grace him with a reply this time, simply closes his eyes and inhales sharply. He doesn’t. Hajime knows he doesn’t. Tooru doesn't like being vulnerable, in any way, around other people than Hajime.
“Good, because neither do I,” he growls, a streak of possessiveness as sudden as lightning striking him from within and sending his heart pounding into overtime. Hajime brings the packet back to his member and spills the rest of the lube on it. He slightly shifts the hand currently cupping Tooru’s mouth, giving Tooru more room to breathe, and hears him take a few deep breaths.
“You ready?” he asks, dropping the packet of lube to the floor. He makes a mental note to pick their mess up later, lest the person using the cubicle after them has a very awkward realisation about what transpired here. Tooru replies, but the answer is muffled by the skin of Hajime’s hand. He lifts it off of Tooru’s mouth completely, and lets him suck in a few breaths before he repeats himself.
“Yes.”
“Alright.” Hajime curves his hand over Tooru’s mouth once again, lines himself up, and sinks into Tooru in one fluid motion. He feels more than hears Tooru’s startled, if not slightly pained gasp, a cool rush of air against his palm, before he immediately sets a punishing pace. Tooru slaps his hands against the tiled wall of the cubicle, fingers weakly scrabbling against the smooth surface to find his balance. Each breath that he takes hisses between his teeth and spreads hot air over Hajime’s fingers.
Hajime nuzzles the hairs on Tooru’s nape, before dragging his nose down the gentle slope of his neck and biting down on the skin of his shoulder. Tooru jolts beneath his touch, a small, muffled moan escaping his lips.
Hajime isn’t gentle this time around, not really. The sound of clothes rubbing against clothes, the squeak of Hajime’s sneakers against the floor, and Tooru’s frantic breathing is all that can be heard as Hajime pounds into him relentlessly. Hajime muffles his own moans and grunts by biting down on Tooru’s exposed skin, only moving when Tooru tenses beneath him in pain.
Hajime pulls back after the third bite, watches blood well up in tiny droplets from where he’s bitten Tooru on the shoulder, and kisses the area in apology. Tooru’s gone utterly silent in his bliss, his breathing uneven, and his legs are shaking when Hajime drags his free hand along Tooru’s thigh.
“Fuck,” he hisses, and he shifts his hand to begin stroking along Tooru’s length, matching his movements to the feverish rhythm of his hips.
Tooru moans something intelligible, his own hips jerking forward into Hajime’s fist. The sound of his voice is muffled against Hajime’s palm, but Hajime doesn’t need to pull his hand back to understand exactly what he’s saying. He’s close. They both are.
“Me too,” he grunts, pressing another soft kiss to the nape of Tooru’s neck, the gesture a stark contrast to his aggressive behaviour a few minutes prior. Tooru relaxes against him, his legs giving up as his climax nears, and Hajime quickly catches him, letting go of Tooru’s erection to grip his waist and hold him upright, fucking into him with renewed vigour.
It only takes a few thrusts before Tooru’s entire body seizes and he comes, pulsing around Hajime’s length, and Hajime chokes back his own pleasured sounds as he follows, hips jerking unevenly as he fucks Tooru through both of their orgasms.
Hajime slowly comes down from his high, pleasure coursing through his every veins. Pressing his forehead against Tooru’s back, Hajime slowly pulls his hand away from the latter’s mouth, feeling Tooru’s chest heave beneath him as Tooru takes a few gulps of well-needed air.
“You okay?” Hajime asks, lifting his hands to slowly run them across Tooru’s bruised shoulders. One of the bites is still bleeding, and Hajime runs his tongue along the crescent dots in Tooru's skin, waiting for Tooru to gather his thoughts enough to reply.
“Yeah,” Tooru finally breathes, his voice is somewhat hoarse, as if he’d just spent the last 20 minutes shouting instead of being absolutely silent. “That was amazing, Iwa-chan!”
And his shit-eating grin is back, as he tilts his head to fix Hajime with his warm gaze. Hajime grumbles something close to “shut up” and “Shittykawa” as he pulls off and ties up the condom, before he roughly tugs up his boxers and pants, leaving Tooru no room for post-coital snuggling. Tooru pouts, watches Hajime’s hand skate dangerously close to the lock of the cubicle door, and hastily wipes himself with a tissue before he does up his own pants, as if the reality of their situation suddenly became clear to him, now that his mind isn't fogged up by the pressure of Hajime's fingers against his skin.
Hajime stifles a giggle as he moves away from the door and awkwardly shuffles around Tooru to pick up the lube packet. He throws it into the trash, along with the condom. By the time he turns around, Tooru, has already kicked the door open and already sauntered to the sinks in order to study the damage Hajime’s done to his neck. Hajime briefly wonders how long it’s going to take him to notice the marks.
“Iwa-chan!” is the outraged cry Hajime hears but a few seconds later, and he stifles his chuckling as the sound of Tooru’s hurried footsteps come closer. “What the hell is this?!”