Chapter Text
"You like that, don't you, kid?"
Ryuji barely manages to keep himself from cumming. The sound of Iwai's husky voice, coupled with the lewd words, threaten to send him right over the edge. The laugh he gets in response sends shivers down his spine.
He turns back to glower at the shop owner, and when he does, all traces of amusement leave Iwai's face. His expression grows darker, hungrier. Ryuji stifles a moan when Iwai's hand finds his hair, rough fingers threading through the blonde spikes.
"Fuck," Ryuji grinds out, cock throbbing in the warmth of Iwai's hand. He's ready, so ready-
"Not yet." Iwai tightens his grip, earning a whine of protest.
"The fuck, man?" Tears were definitely not stinging the corners of his eyes. Nope.
"You cum when I tell you to."
"That's bullshit!" Aching dick temporarily forgotten, Ryuji tries to turn around again, accusation blazing in his eyes. Iwai bends him over the counter until all Ryuji can see is the ghost of himself reflecting back from the glass display of guns. He looks embarrassingly disheveled, face flushed, lips parted, and that's all he can take in before his breath mercifully fogs the glass.
"It's what you agreed to."
"The fuck it is! I just came in to get a gun," The last word catches in his throat when Iwai's fingers slide over the head of his cock. His precum makes Iwai's fingers slick, and with each passing second, Ryuji's thoughts grow more muddled. He's gonna lose his goddamn mind if Iwai doesn't hurry things along.
"This a cute little scene you didn't tell me about?"
Fuck. Iwai's voice is dangerously close. Warm breath ghosts over the shell of Ryuji's ear. The moan he lets out is damn right cringe worthy. Iwai seems to think otherwise, if the way he presses his dick to Ryuji's ass is anything to go by. The thrill of feeling Iwai's clothed erection is too much for the blonde. He cums against the back of the gun display, cock pulsing with each spurt. His legs shake, and if Iwai didn't have him pinned to the counter, he's positive they would have gone out from under him.
"Jesus, kid. You ever jerk off?" Iwai pulls back, letting Ryuji slide to the ground in a wrecked heap, pants tugged low on his hips.
The front bell chimes, and Iwai looks up, face a mask of impassivity, contrast to the mounting alarm Ryuji feels.
"We're closed."
Footsteps approach the counter, and Ryuji draws his knees to his chest in a poor attempt to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. When he peeks up to see what Iwai plans to do about the stubborn customer, he's met with the sight of pale hands fisting in Iwai's shirt, tugging the man forward into a rough kiss.
Ryuji is surprised by the jealousy that flares at the low groan of approval that rumbles from Iwai. Iwai didn't respond that way to him. And the one pulling that noise from Iwai was none other than his best friend. The kiss is so intense, Ryuji's feelings become a confused tangle of arousal, yearning, and jealousy. He isn't sure who he's jealous of, Iwai for getting the kiss, or Akira for getting such strong reactions from Iwai.
When Iwai draws back, his voice is gruff, his gaze intense.
"Go around back, meet you there. Gotta lock up."
Ryuji hears footsteps falling away, and suddenly Iwai hoists him up by his jacket as if he's an unwelcome stray cat.
"Get outta here, kid. Got business to attend."
And just like that, Ryuji finds himself outside the shop, having barely had any time to fix his pants. He blinks, stupefied by the sudden change of environment. A clap of thunder startles him and prompts him to glance at the darkened sky. The awning of the shop just barely keeps him out of the downpour, and does absolutely nothing to shelter him from the icy wind.
He glances back once more, breath catching at the sight beyond the window. Akira sits on the glass counter with his legs wrapped tightly around Iwai's waist, as he kisses the shopkeeper passionately.
"Doesn't bother me none," Ryuji grumbles. But he's lying to himself, and he knows it, and he fucking hates it.