Work Text:
It’s a random Thursday afternoon when Taki realizes he likes Yuma.
The way it happens is, as all things when it comes to him, mortifying. He’s in class, the second one of the day, which already is enough to make him want to die, and it doesn’t help that he really needs to go to the bathroom. He’s been holding it for at least thirty minutes now, his uncomfortably full bladder being pressed almost painfully by the fly of his jeans, and he’d do just about anything to be able to get up and go take a piss, but alas, he can’t. This is a very important lecture about an even more important assignment, one that is worth nothing else than half this subject’s grade; missing it is not an option.
Complaining to his best friend about it is, though.
tkr [3:32PM]
YUMA
SEND HELP
yuma-chan [3:34PM]
?
whats going on
send help where
tkr [3:34PM]
class 411
im going to piss myself
yuma-chan [3:34PM]
wtf is wrong w u man
just get up and go take a piss
tkr [3:35PM]
i can’t
this is like the most important lecture of this semester, kinda
and the bathroom’s soooo far away
im fucked if i miss it
yuma-chan [3:35PM]
and what am i supposed to do about it?
go to ur class and hold ur dick on a bottle for u so u can piss?
fuck off
The text is ridiculous, Yuma’s language is anything but classy and still, Taki’s stupid fucking brain immediately projects an image of Yuma doing exactly what he said he would do. It’s fucking gross; Taki would never, under any circumstance, pee inside a bottle, specially not in class, but it’s the idea of Yuma holding his dick that actually gets him going. Yuma’s got beautiful hands; they’re big and dainty and his fingers are long and they’d fit just right around his dick, Taki knows. He’d be on his knees and he’s got such a pretty face too. His lips are even prettier, rosy and plump and they’d look perfect around his tip, he’s sure. Yuma’s mouth is small, even when he opens it wide, and it’s not like Taki’s dick is anything above average, but would it fit? Does he have a gag reflex?
His heart suddenly makes a leap inside his chest, eyes going as wide as beach balls with the realization that his dick is fucking hard right now, and not with the urge to pee. With his heartbeat up on his throat, Taki throws his dignity and the importance of this lecture out the window, puts his two wobbly legs to work and pulls the hem of his hoodie down as he stands up to make a beeline to the bathroom, ignoring all the stares he gets on the way out. Locking himself inside a stall, Taki stares blankly at his very evident boner; he can’t pee like this, not if he doesn’t cum first, but the only thing in his mind is Yuma holding his dick in his hand, and he’ll be dead and buried before he rubs one out for his asshole of a best friend.
Needless to say, willing the boner down doesn’t work. He tries to think of something tragic, to splash his face with tap water and give himself a couple of slaps on the cheeks, but only a cold shower could perhaps solve his problem, and that is not happening, not when he’s inside a college bathroom and with the image of what Yuma’s orgasm face could possibly look like in his head.
So with his whole face bright red and after embarrassing two minutes (that is the fastest he’s ever come in his whole entire life), he makes it out of the bathroom, no more boner, an empty bladder and the certainty that he’d take his dirty little secret to the grave.
That doesn’t play out quite as he’d like.
Seeing Yuma is torture now. Every single time he has to so much as look at his best friend, he remembers what he’d done, and it doesn’t help that his thoughts only get worse from then on. He pictures Yuma bent over the table when he comes over, thinks of kissing him senseless when he gets close enough for Taki to stare at his lips, fantasizes about holding his waist and biting his neck and leaving marks everywhere, for everyone to see. His most frequent daydream, however, is Yuma on his knees, sucking him off with his perfect face stuffed full of dick.
He’d never pictured it otherwise, until one fateful evening.
They’re gathered at Kei’s, because they always are, and Yuma is wearing a pair of grey sweats which he also always does, and his hair is messy, unstyled. He’s sitting right across from Taki, nursing a beer with his legs spread open, and Taki had never noticed how broad his shoulders have gotten since he started to work out. His pants are loose but not enough to conceal his bulge, and Taki knows he’s not hard, can’t be in the middle of their friends with his legs spread like that, and if what he can see is anything to go by, Yuma isn’t small. The train of thought is sudden, and it keeps spiraling; Taki wants to see him naked, touch him, put him in his mouth.
His own legs close by instinct, back going so stiff it cracks, and Nicholas looks at him weird. He’s red in the face, he knows, and to make matters all the worse, everyone sort of notices the shift in his behaviour and the way he’s suddenly restless, looking around in fear they’ll somehow read his thoughts.
“You okay, Taki?” Fuma asks from the couch, both of Kei’s legs thrown over his lap and their expressions a carbon copy of each other.
“Yeah, I’m good, just feelin’ a little hot.” he lies, even if not totally. The room does feel extremely hot right now, awfully so with how Yuma’s staring at him.
“Are you sick? I can drop you off at home if you want to.” Kei, bless his heart.
“No, it’s fine! I just need to take a breather, I’ll be right back.” and so he smiles the best he can, getting up and pretending his steps aren’t rushed to get to Kei’s balcony.
There he breathes in the fresh night air, deep and enough to fill his lungs to the point it hurts, and then he lets it out. Once, twice and a third time, before a hand touches his shoulder and he startles so bad his fists ball up, ready to punch.
“Woah, easy there.” Harua’s face is bright and his smile is cheeky when Taki finally gets to look at him. His glasses are perched on the tip of his nose and Taki would do about anything to punch him in the face for real.
“What is your problem, man?” his anger is unfounded, really. He knows Harua wasn’t trying to actually scare him, even if he did end up doing so.
“You seem to be the one with a problem here. What’s up?” he fixes his glasses and digs his pocket, fishing out an already opened can of mints. He doesn’t have to offer Taki any for him to reach out for it.
“Have you ever been betrayed by your own thoughts?” it’s easier to ask a vague question than it is to state his true feelings right away. He knows Harua would never judge him, but it’s still hard to wrap his head around the fact that he wants to fuck Yuma so bad it makes him look stupid.
“All the time.” Harua’s answer is so honest it almost sounds fake. Taki frowns at him as he, too, eats some of the mints. “What have you been thinking of exactly?” Taki ponders, for a second, what he should say.
Harua is his best friend, as good of a friend as Yuma himself. They’re the same age and Harua understands him like no one else; sometimes, it even feels like they’re an extension of each other, with how alike their thoughts, opinions and actions are. He would understand. He would.
“Okay so first of, you have to promise me you’re not going to laugh.” he turns to Harua, serious. Immediately Harua turns too, eyebrows hard and cheeks pink. They always are a little pink.
“I won’t. Promise.” Taki takes a deep breath. He needs to do it.
“I think I like Yuma.” he breathes out, almost a whisper. Harua squints.
“Like like really like? Kissing on the lips like?”
“Worse.”
“Oh my God.” exasperated and whispering too. Taki presses his lips together, a troubled frown to his forehead. “How worse?”
“Harua I wanna fuck him.”
“Oh.” his face alone talks for him. Taki scratches his head, not knowing what else he should say. Harua doesn’t make him talk any longer. “I mean, that’s not bad! It’s not bad at all. I like Maki too, you know.” and yes, Taki does know. Everybody knows.
“That is not the same. I’ve never even touched a dick but my own in my life!” the confession is embarrassing and it makes Taki’s head spin a little. It’s been two weeks since he figured out he wanted to touch a dick but his own at all; entirely too little time to find out a way to do so.
“And do you think I have?” Harua’s eyes are wide, offended. Taki makes a face at him.
“Haven’t you?” because, in his head, that doesn’t make any sense. Harua has liked Maki for as long as birds chirp. From the way they act, one would assume they’re inside each other’s guts at least twice a week.
“No? I’m terrified of doing anything past kissing because I have no idea what to do!” he sounds urgent, almost hysterical. Taki cannot believe his luck.
“You’re of no help.” there’s a certain disappointment to his tone. Harua scowls.
“You can’t hold yourself together because you found out you like dick and I’m of no help?”
“Go to hell.”
“No, seriously, what am I supposed to do to help you? Let you touch mine so you’ll feel better about it?” it’s a joke, a very stupid one, but it makes something inside Taki’s head click.
He’s silent for a moment, just staring at Harua and watching his indignant expression melt into a weirded out one, because–
“You’re not actually considering that, are you?” every word that comes out of Harua’s mouth is coated in disbelief. That can’t be.
“It’s not a bad idea…? I mean, if you let me see and touch yours then I would know what to do if I ever made a move on Yuma.” as absurd as it sounds, it wouldn’t be the worst thing they’ve done for each other. Taki remembers all too well, holding Harua’s forehead above the toilet so he could throw up to his heart’s content the first time he ever got shitfaced.
“Are you stupid?” Taki almost says yes before he realizes the question is rethorical. “I wouldn’t do that with you, not even in your wildest dreams. Now get your shit together and let’s go back inside, your crush is wondering what the hell is wrong with you. If only he knew.” and he storms back inside, cheeks redder than they’ve ever been.
Taki follows. Sits back between Euijoo and Nicholas, nurses his soda and avoids looking at Yuma's way for the rest of the night. If he manages to, it’s between him and God.
He never thinks of his conversation with Harua again. He never even remembers he told him about his crush on Yuma at all, because they’re always too damn busy with school and Harua has a ridiculous part time job at a pet shop, which means they hardly even manage to see each other, let alone talk about whatever bullshit Taki got going on. The whole ordeal gets shoved in a deep corner of Taki’s brain, so much so that it comes as a surprise when, all of a sudden on a Friday evening, Harua comes banging on his door like a mad man.
“What’s going on–“
“We should do it.”
“What?” Taki is taken aback by the statement. Harua’s face is just as bright red as it had been that night, but there’s a fire to his wide eyes that makes him look a little wild.
“That thing you said that day about my dick. We should do it.” it takes a moment, but eventually, it rings a bell. Taki’s eyes go as wide as Harua’s, hands antsy as they pull his best friend inside his, thankfully, empty dorm.
He doesn’t know what he’d do if Jaehyun was home. He’d give him shit for days.
“Are you insane? Talking about dick in my fucking hallway?!” he’s aggravated and with reason. Harua seems to have lost his mind.
“Don’t act like the people around here haven’t heard worse. Plus, it’s my own dick I’m talking about.” he’s right.
“Still doesn’t give you a free pass to just say that.” he pokes his head into the hallway, just to make sure it’s empty. The door slams shut behind his back and when he turns around Harua is just standing there, still with his backpack, in his ugly green uniform and beaten up jeans, looking at him with that face, the one that’s a little blank and makes him look cuter than he should be. “Why’d you suddenly decide you do want me to see your dick?” he doesn’t mean for it to sound so cynical. Harua squints.
“I don’t want you to see my dick. I mean, not you necessarily.” he fidgets in place, hands rubbing over his jeans. “I just– Maki picked me up at work and we were making out in the car and I wanted to take a step further so bad but I was so nervous and scared of fucking shit up that I backed out. Again. But he got upset this time.”
“You managed to upset Maki?”
“I know! I know. He started asking me if I’m not attracted enough to him and stuff like that and I felt awful so I decided I need to get this over with.”
“Right. You’re totally right, man.”
“Yeah. I have one condition, though.” he’s suddenly somber. Taki’s eyebrows rise.
“I don’t like your tone.”
“I’ll only let you see and touch my dick if you let me see and touch yours. It’s a fair trade.”
“How is that fair?”
“How is it not? You see and touch mine, I see and touch yours, we both figure out how that works and get one step closer to banging our crushes. That’s literally the fairest thing ever.”
“You’re not wrong.” he truly isn’t. Harua smirks, looking way too smug for his own good. “Wanna go to my room?”
“Wait, what? Now?” his face falls. Taki shrugs.
“Why not? You got something better to do? Jaehyun isn’t coming back today, anyway.” it’s only logical that they do it right there and then. Why should they wait any longer?
Harua suddenly looks uncertain, eyes darting everywhere, minus on Taki’s face.
“I mean, I… I didn’t shower and I came straight from work so…” his hands are all fidgety again. His nails are painted a pretty, shimmery baby blue and Taki has half the mind to compliment him on it.
Not now, though. That would be weird.
“I’ve slept in the same bed as you right after you threw up your guts. The fact that you didn’t shower should be the last of your worries.” Harua still doesn’t seem convinced. Taki sighs. “But if it would make you feel better, you can shower. You know where the towels are.”
“It won't take long.”
“It’s fine. It’s not like I’m dying to see your dick or anything.”
“Fuck you.” but he’s already walking away.
With nothing better to do, Taki decides to go to his room. If he’s going to wait, he might as well do it in his bed, laying down and comfortable.
Staring at the ceiling with the muted hum of the shower in the background, Taki inevitably starts to ask himself if this is truly a good idea. Harua is his best friend; how is that any better than doing it with Yuma straight away? Aren’t they the same? Harua is handsome and pretty and cute but Taki had never thought of him like he thinks of Yuma. How does that play in the fact that they’re basically going to have sex? I mean, can jerking each other off be considered sex?
Just when he’s about to fall too deep into his thoughts, Harua joins him in the room. He has one of Taki’s towels wrapped around his waist, wet hair dripping water down his temples and chest, all his skin on display, and yes, Taki can admit he’s attractive. His cheeks are ruddy and his glasses a little foggy as he paces around, not once looking at Taki, seemingly trying to not explode out of embarrassment.
Taki himself feels awfully shy.
“You’re making it awkward.” it’s what he chooses to say. Harua stops in his tracks, a frown to his brow and a twist to his lips.
“Well I’m sorry for being nervous about having a dude touch my dick for the first time.”
“I’m not just any dude, I’m your best friend!”
“You know how worse that is?”
“Do you really want to do this or not?”
“I do! I do.” Harua sits down when Taki sits up. They stare at each other for a long moment before Harua lets out a deep breath. “I just– this doesn’t change anything between you and I, does it?”
“I don’t think so?” it sounds more like a question than an affirmation. Harua’s still frowning. “I mean, it doesn’t. Really, it does not. Why would it?”
“You do know that we’re basically going to have sex, right?”
“To help each other out with something we’re both struggling with. That’s what friends are for.” it’s the sole reason why they’re doing it.
There’s the smallest bits of pondering shining in Harua’s eyes before he nods to himself, running a hand through his hair and coming closer.
“Okay. Take your clothes off.”
“What? Why would I do that?” Taki is caught off guard, hands coming up to cover his chest protectively.
Harua makes a face, a very displeased one.
“How am I supposed to see your dick if you’re wearing clothes, you idiot? I can’t be the only one naked here.” and, again, he’s right.
Taki says nothing as he gathers all his courage to strip out of his shirt. Harua has seen him shirtless more times than he can count, but in this context, it’s different. Where Harua is slimmer, smaller, Taki is broader, thicker; it’s not a competition and he knows that, but if it were to be, he knows he’d be ahead of Harua in a way or another. Not that it matters, though. That definitely doesn’t take Taki’s mind anywhere.
“Are you keeping the towel on?” because, despite him having taken his shirt off, Harua has made no move to strip out of his towel.
“For now, yeah. Do you want to keep your pants on too?” Taki nods. He doesn’t know what the hell to say. “Alright, so… what usually gets you going?” what a ridiculous thing to ask.
“Yuma.” and an even more ridiculous thing to answer. Harua sighs.
“Right. I’m not Yuma though, so we’re gonna have to figure out something else.” deadpan. Taki gulps.
“Okay. What gets you going? And don’t say Maki or we’re not going anywhere with this.”
“Why can you say Yuma but I can’t say Maki?”
“We need to make this work, Harua.”
“Right.” another nod. His eyes stray away, as if lost in thought. “Uhm… I guess kissing?”
“Do you wanna kiss me?!”
“I don’t wanna kiss you. I’m just saying that kissing usually turns me on so if we want to make this work as you said, that would be a way to start.” his whole face is red as he says it. Taki can feel his own get hot.
“Got it.” but he doesn’t move. Harua is still looking elsewhere and they’re both entirely too on edge to make a move.
Taki decides he doesn’t like that.
“Look, I know that this is weird but we shouldn’t think too much about it. We’re friends, aren’t we? It’s no big deal.” Taki starts, giving into the surge of bravery that pushes him up to his knees and closer to Harua. He smells like Taki’s soap. “You trust me, don't you?” his voice dips lower, becomes softer. An attempt to make Harua realize that there’s nothing to be scared of.
To convince him he’s not scared either, even if he’s lying.
“Of course I trust you. And you trust me.” there’s no need to speak any louder than they are. Taki’s hand hovers above Harua’s shoulder, somewhat hesitant over whether to touch or not.
“I do.” finally, his palm lands. Harua’s skin is soft and warm to the touch, a little damp from his shower, but it’s nice. The way he has to look up at Taki is nice. “Let’s do it, then. I’ll kiss you right now.” his tongue darts out to wet his lips and he pretends not to see Harua’s eyes following the movement.
“Go ahead.” and that’s it, he thinks.
He dips his head down and closes his eyes strongly when his mouth meets Harua’s. At first, he fears it’s going to be weird; that it’ll feel gross and that they’ll both back out and yuck at each other, but that doesn’t happen, not at all. Instead, the touch is soft, almost tender, Harua’s lips are hot and plump against his own, and to start moving comes naturally. Taki turns his head to one side, Harua turns his to the opposite and it’s a perfect fit. Their mouths slide against each other gently, tentatively, and it’s Harua who first nudges Taki’s bottom lip with his tongue, not having to try really hard to make him breach them open all the way.
This is good. This is really nice.
Harua tastes like mouthwash with a tinge of something sweet that is probably just his own natural taste, and Taki likes it. He breathes into the kiss, letting himself fall further into Harua, trusting him to keep him steady and mostly to keep the kiss going, and he does. Hands firm around his waist, Harua dives in with a bit more enthusiasm now; his tongue is curious, exploring every corner of Taki’s mouth, and it’s weird, how willing Taki is to just let him. He had never kissed a guy in his life either. It’s nicer than he thought it would be.
The angle is a little weird, and they’re already knee deep in it anyway, so Taki doesn’t really think too much of it before he swings a leg over Harua’s hips, promptly and fully setting himself on his lap. Harua hisses, out of surprise, and that breaks the kiss. Taki takes the moment to look at him, then.
“Is this okay?” his own voice sounds raspy to his ears. Harua’s eyes are shiny, dark behind his stupid glasses, and Taki wants to kiss him again.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Just surprised me.” Harua sounds so dreamy and his cheeks are so red and Taki had never really realized how pretty he is.
“Okay. Good.” and there’s a still, silent moment where they just sit and stare. It seems to last forever, eyes scanning every nook and cranny of each other’s faces, waiting for the moment one of them will break, give in.
Harua does it first.
With a new surge of energy, Harua cranes his neck up and his mouth feels somehow hotter when it touches Taki’s this time. He kisses hungrily, like it’s his last opportunity to do so, and Taki is torn between believing that this is all a product of pent up horniness or that Harua is actually like that. Nonetheless, this is different. It’s better.
It’s turning him on.
Harua feels like a furnace under his body, his shoulders soft on skin but firm on muscle under Taki’s palms, his hands strong despite their size where they squeeze and pull him around the waist. His touches are slowly, surely winding Taki up, goosebumps and chills running down his arms and spine the more Harua’s hands travel, to the small of his back, on his sides, squeezing his thighs and pulling him closer, closer. Taki can’t breathe, not enough to fill his lungs, but it feels good to be groped like that, to have someone similar in size and strength handling him this way.
The fact that Harua is his best friend is the last of his concerns at the moment.
Finally, Harua lets up again, but he’s quick to occupy his mouth with Taki’s neck instead. He travels nine kisses up the length of it, each one making Taki gasp and squirm, involuntarily pressing himself closer and closer to Harua, enough to notice that he’s hard as steel under the towel. For some reason Taki would rather not understand, the realization makes him unreasonably horny; so much he doesn’t even think twice before he grinds down on the lap under his thighs, slow and tentative but definite, and the response is instant: a sound against the damp skin of his throat, something low and airy but also a little whiny, and that is it. His chest burns, his spine arches with a shiver and he grinds down again, again and again until he’s fully humping Harua, being spurred on by hands on his waist and ass, guiding him forward and back in a rhythm that’s too easy to fall into. Harua kisses his neck like he’s making out with it, and it’s almost a little embarrassing, how quickly Taki feels himself riling up, his crotch growing hot so fast he’s a little dizzy with it, and then Harua is kissing him again.
This kiss is deep, slow but intense, and Taki doesn’t even realize how much he’s drooling until Harua’s hand travels up his hair to tug at it; he opens his mouth to moan, a little bit of spit running down the corner of his lips but being caught by Harua’s tongue, and that makes him go a little crazy. Harua is too good at this for a virgin.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” he knows it’s stupid to ask. His parameter for this kind of thing is awful as a virgin himself, and he sounds stupider than his own question, with his voice thin and airy like some animal in heat, but he was never one to hold his tongue.
“Why would I lie?” Harua sounds breathless himself. He looks up at Taki and his glasses are foggy, a little askew on the nose, and he hates that the first thought that clogs his brain is how would he look if Taki were to cum on his face with his glasses still on.
“You have no idea of how horny I am right now.” but that’s what he says instead, before he can stop it. Curse his big mouth.
Harua laughs a little, squeezing his waist with one hand and smoothing his hair down with the other, soothing his scalp from where he was gripping it.
“You talk a lot.” Harua’s answer is lighthearted, poking fun at Taki like they’re not all over each other right now. “Do you have lube? It’ll make it easier.”
“Yeah.” he turns around, then, climbing off Harua’s lap on wobbly legs and crawling on the mattress to get to his destination.
The lube is stored on his bedside table, in the second drawer, and he doesn’t even have it in himself to feel shy about the fact that the bottle is halfway empty. He’s been wound up and he’s twenty years old. Judge him all you want.
When he turns around, lube in hand, he doesn’t expect to find Harua standing at the foot of the bed, towel discarded to the floor, completely fucking naked. His eyes go wide, because not only is Harua fully hard, he’s also really hot. A small little waist, smooth, tan legs, and a flush so deep to his face it goes all the way down to his chest, dusty brown nipples all perked up. The idea of hypothetically doing more than a handjob with Harua doesn’t sound so bad now.
Wait, what?
“Woah, okay.” he doesn’t say what his brain is conjuring for once, saving both himself and Harua from the embarrassment. “I should strip too, then.” and so he does.
He tries to not let his self-consciousness speak louder than his arousal, because he’s still really fucking horny. The fact that being fully naked only highlights how, structurally, Taki is in fact bigger, hits him harder than he thought it would. Something hot and heavy sits low on his belly, the nasty thought that he could easily top Harua if he wanted to making his dick twitch a little, and he’s sure his best friend notices, but even so, he doesn’t say a thing, bless his soul.
“How should we do this?” he asks, as if Taki knows any better than him. He has watched maybe four gay porn videos in his life and all of them directly involved dick in ass, which they’re not doing today. Or ever.
Right?
“I don’t know? I mean, I don’t think there’s a way to do this comfortably.” sitting face to face and holding each other’s dicks sounds sort of awkward in his head.
“Maybe you should lay down.” Taki frowns at Harua’s suggestion but does just that, laying flat on the bed with his arms spread like a starfish. “No, not like that. Let me just–“ and with pure brute force, he pulls Taki up by the shoulders.
He’s sat on the bed, being held by Harua with one hand on his waist while his other works to fluff Taki’s pillows against the headboard, making a comfortable rest for his back as he half sits, half lays. Satisfied with his work, Harua takes a step back, grabs the lube and joins Taki on the mattress, kneeling between his spread legs, towering over him in a way that immediately flips the coin in his head. He wouldn’t be opposed to Harua topping him, either.
It’s hotter than it is weird. It shouldn’t be.
“Alright, so… Can I touch you?” Harua is red in the face when Taki asks, eyes wide behind his fogged up glasses, and he doesn’t really know how to feel about the fact that Harua’s dick is at a hand’s reach. Nor about the fact that he actually does want to touch it.
“Go on.” it’s all he says, a little strung out, almost wheezed, handing the lube out with a shaking hand.
Taki does the only thing he can think of doing: lathers his hand in a generous coat of lube, warms it for literally half a second and grabs Harua’s dick. Immediately, Harua hisses; the muscles of his abdomen ripple, he lets out a breath from his nose, and Taki is entirely too stunned. His hand isn’t big, he knows that, but Harua fits just fine in his grip, hot and meaty and really hard, and it’s almost hysterical, just how much it feels like touching his own cock. He wants to laugh at how easy this whole thing feels, but instead he fixes himself on the bed, adjusts his grip and stares up at Harua.
“You’re gonna have to tell me how you like it.” it’s the cheapest excuse of dirty talk he can think of, but he truly doesn’t know how Harua likes his shit wanked.
“Just— just do it like you do it on yourself.” he struggles to say it, avoiding Taki’s eyes at all costs, instead zeroing in on his own dick getting gripped.
That can’t be too hard. Definitely not as hard as Harua is.
At first, Taki moves slowly. He strokes base to tip, not too tight, just getting it started, and it’s almost hypnotic, to see one single drop of precum ooze out of Harua’s head as his fist goes up. He studies his friend’s dick carefully, full of wonder; Harua is very neatly trimmed, flushed a little darker than the rest of his body and he pulses with every move of Taki’s hand. He’s also making these noises, little aborted whimper-sounding things that are doing something to Taki, something raw and nasty and so fucking hot his dick actually hurts.
It’s natural to fall into a rhythm. He tightens his fist, twists his wrist on the way up and rubs a thumb over Harua’s tip, so focused he startles a little at the shiver that completely wrecks his friend, a louder, deeper noise coming up his throat with the stimulation.
A moan. An actual one. Taki is really touching a guy’s dick and making him moan.
He can’t even begin to wrap his head around how much he likes it.
“You should touch me too.” the suggestion is a little pitiful, bordering on a plea, spurred on by the sudden realization of how much his own dick aches. Harua had been lost in the heat of it all but Taki’s voice seems to effectively pull him out of it.
“Yeah, I should— yeah, wait a minute.” he swats Taki’s hand away from his dick, reaching for the lube and coating his own hand with it.
And that Taki wasn’t fully ready for.
Harua is way less hesitant about it than Taki had been. He shifts a little, takes a deep breath and wraps his hand around Taki’s cock, his touch soft and hot and immediately, Taki shivers. Harua doesn’t miss that, of course he doesn’t, but instead of saying anything, he just smirks, looking hotter than he has any right to be.
Taki finds that so much worse than if he did say anything.
“You tell me if it’s good, okay? Keep touching me.” the way he says it, secure and even a little demanding, leaves no room for Taki to argue.
He has way too little time to understand how any of this makes him feel. His hand is back on Harua’s dick, and then he himself is melting a little against the cushions behind his back, because Harua starts pumping him in earnest. It’s good; Harua keeps a loose fist, a steady motion of up and down, and his touch is smoother than Taki’s own. Hotter. It feels so, so much better.
They fall into a pace when Taki realizes Harua is mimicking his movements. When he tightens his grip, Harua does too; when he thumbs over the head, Harua’s thighs twitch before he does the very same. Taki can see every little drop of sweat building on Harua’s hairline, his glasses slipping down his nose, eyes burning behind them. He looks good like this: red in the face, looking at Taki from above, subtly starting to rut his hips forward into Taki’s fist, as if he wouldn’t notice. His cheeks are blotchy and his eyebrows are knit together, lips pink and slick with spit and open around little noises that he can’t seem to keep down.
Taki doesn’t realize he’s moaning himself until Harua’s free hand climbs all the way to his mouth, fingers getting shoved inside without previous notice.
And you see, Taki might be inexperienced but he isn’t dumb. He knows Harua wants him to suck on his fingers, and so he does. Harua’s grip feels slick around his dick and his fist has tightened and Taki doesn’t know what he needs wet fingers for, but it feels good to muffle his noises this way. His tongue laps at Harua’s digits like a thirsty dog; he allows himself to close his eyes, really get into it, and he would worry about what he looks like right now, truly, if his mind wasn’t in a place so foggy he barely registers Harua cuss under his breath.
It’s sudden. In a minute, he’s sucking on Harua’s fingers, and in the next, it’s on his tongue. Harua kisses him deep, a little desperate, his wet fingers previously trapped in Taki’s mouth now circling over one of his nipples in a way that he didn’t know could feel good, but it does. Very much. He moans, loud, but Harua swallows the noise greedily; he’s still fucking into Taki’s grip, completely shameless now, his fist tight and perfect around Taki’s length, and this feels too good. So much better than anything Taki had ever pictured.
He doesn’t know if he should, if Harua is going to be mad or if his wants right now are off limits, but Taki’s way beyond salvation to actually care. His free hand starts to roam, gripping Harua around the waist, his ass, pulling him closer between his spread legs; there isn’t an inch of them that isn’t touching now, their wet, hard dicks included, and Taki smiles despite himself, feeling a little out of his mind with arousal. This situation is insane and he’s never been hornier in his entire life.
“Move your hand out of the way.” Harua commands, a little out of breath, his mouth still glued to Taki’s. It’s hot in a way that worries Taki a bit.
But he obeys, because of course he does, and what Harua does next shakes him to his core a little. He wraps his own slick, hot hand around them both, dictating the rhythm even if it’s a bit of a tight fit; Taki doesn’t know if he’s more affected about the fact that he is actively touching dicks with Harua, that it feels entirely too good to be in such a position or that he cannot for the life of himself stop kissing his best friend.
For some reason, it feels safer when they’re kissing. Taki is thinking so much and none of the things in head are sounding very bright; he wants to tell Harua he feels really good, that they should’ve done this sooner, that this is definitely going to change things between them, but Harua is moaning so pretty on his lips, and he’s moving with so much certainty, hips thrusting forward fluidly, encouraging Taki to meet him in the middle. He smells so good, like Taki and himself, and Taki is obsessed with the way his skin raises in goosebumps the moment he tentatively, weakly pulls at his hair. Harua whines, and his back arches a little, and Taki does it again, stronger, more purposeful, going as far as biting down on Harua’s lip while he’s at it, and it’s beautiful. To feel Harua shake, to hear him whine louder, to watch him lose control over his movements for a minute. Taki is so hot he feels it in his bones.
Harua’s back feels sweaty under his palm when he slips it from his scalp all the way down to the base of his spine. Taki’s own hips move in tandem with Harua’s, both sliding maddeningly wet inside Harua’s fist, and Taki feels himself climb towards his release at a speed that makes his head reel.
“Harua— I’m close.” he doesn’t mean to whimper it out, to sound so wounded. His free, slicked hand grabs Harua’s hip in a grip that can’t be anything but painful, but he doesn’t have it in himself to feel sorry about it at the moment.
“It’s okay, me too.” it’s a relief, to hear Harua sound equally as wrecked. Makes him feel much better about this whole thing. “Don’t hold it back. Let me see you cum.” at that, Harua backs up the smallest bit, just enough to be able to look Taki in the face, and that does it.
Taki can’t take it. Harua’s staring at him with eyes so dark it feels like they’ll swallow him up, and he looks the prettiest Taki has ever seen him. It’s a lot. The new sensations, the fact that it’s Harua causing them all. Being looked at like he’s something precious.
It crashes over him, devastating, unstoppable. Taki closes his eyes, hides his face in the crook of Harua’s neck and bites down, hard, to muffle the embarrassing squeal that travels all the way up his throat. Harua shakes with it a little, and Taki really wants to say sorry, but he’s cumming so hard he’s seeing white behind his eyelids. He grips Harua everywhere he can, hips canting up in desperate, aborted little thrusts, and he knows he’s making a mess, can feel it sticking up his tummy and Harua’s hand, but that is something to be dealt with later. Harua’s being really loud on his ear, movements suddenly rougher, more uncoordinated, and it’s only when he full-body shudders that Taki realises he’s cumming too. Everything gets insanely hotter between them; there’s so much cum, and so much sweat, and so many things they should talk about, but Harua simply pulls back again, enough to kiss Taki on the lips, open mouthed and dirty but also undoubtedly sweet, and the moment seems to last forever. Taki feels suspended in the air, floaty like a helium balloon, and Harua keeps making these little noises that are so cute; half whimpers, half whines, muffled in the dampness of Taki’s mouth and to be kept a secret between them only.
They don’t speak for a while. Harua comes down from his high, but doesn’t move for a long time. Taki decides to accept it as some form of grace; having Harua speak to him or look at his face now would feel like a punishment of sorts. It’s better this way.
But even so, all things end. Eventually, Harua sighs from deep within his chest, getting up from where he had buried his face on Taki’s shoulder, rolling his neck to the point it cracks and sitting back on his heels, still between Taki’s legs. He stretches his arms up, like some lazy cat, and his spine cracks too; Taki watches, breath held, as Harua finally stands, grabs the towel from the floor and cleans his sticky hand with it.
“You can’t forget to do the laundry tomorrow, dude.” he throws the towel in Taki’s general direction, expecting him to clean himself with it.
“Yeah. I won’t.” he half barks, half laughs, wiping the cum off his tummy with his head in complete shreds. His world has been rocked and Harua doesn’t seem to give a single flying damn about it.
“Where did you put my underwear that I left here last time? First drawer?” and he’s pacing around Taki’s room naturally, like he always does, like he isn’t butt naked and like they didn’t just blow a load together in Taki’s bed. He’s going to lose at least three nights of sleep over this.
“Mhm.”
“Can I borrow a pair of jeans?”
“Sure.”
“And a shirt too?”
“Yeah, dude, whatever.”
“Can you wash my uniform with your laundry tomorrow?”
“Will you pay?”
“C’mon, it’s a shirt and jeans. Don’t be petty.” he’s already tugging one of Taki’s pants over his legs, a pair that is actually a little tighter than what he usually buys for himself. It fits perfectly. “Just so we’re clear, though. Who are you telling this to?” the sudden question makes Taki fully sit up. He doesn’t even care that he’s naked anymore.
“Nobody?” he answers like it’s obvious. Harua grabs one of his shirts, a simple white one, and presses his lips together.
“Promise?”
“Yes, of course.” Taki has no reason to tell this to anyone. Even if it eats him alive from the inside out.
“Okay.” finally, he puts on the shirt, hair ruffled and glasses askew, and he looks normal to the untrained eye, but not to Taki. He’s going to sleep tonight with the newfound knowledge of what Harua sounds like when he cums. “This was nice. Thanks.”
“Yeah. Whenever.” Harua, already half out the door, stops in his tracks right there and then, looking at Taki through squinted eyes.
Taki only really realizes why when Harua speaks again.
“We’re not supposed to do this again, Taki.” he hadn’t thought of his answer before it was out. Hell, Taki is not thinking straight at all, his brain haywire and everywhere. “You know that, right?”
“Absolutely.” knowing it doesn’t mean it makes sense. None of this really does.
“Alright.” Harua nods, and Taki has known him long enough to see that he’s not convinced, but for some reason, he doesn’t press. “I’ll see you.” and then he’s leaving, with half a smile and leaving Taki behind with a bite bigger than he can chew.
Still, he goes to take a shower. Takes down the laundry because he knows he’ll forget about it tomorrow, Harua’s jeans and his stupid ugly green shirt too. And the fact that not once did he think about Yuma while his hands were on Harua goes buried in a corner deep, deep down his head as he watches the washing machine go round and round with the spiral of his thoughts.