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maki’s knees hit the floor in front of the toilet with a thud that surely spells nasty bruising come tomorrow morning. harua cringes at the sound, holding maki up to straighten his back, “sorry, maki.” the younger man definitely doesn’t currently have the mental capacity to respond to harua’s apology or even care about the pain in his knees. he’s drunk off his ass; harua almost tore a muscle hauling him back home.
he grabs onto the back of maki’s shirt collar with one hand and hold him steady with his head angled over the toilet bowl, “maki, you had too much to drink—way too much. you need to throw up.” harua’s warning falls onto deaf ears. maki’s too busy mumbling incoherently in between nodding off to care too much about anything else. the elder of the two can only sigh. it’s not like he can just leave him like this. maki’s had too much to drink—enough for it to be dangerous. if he doesn’t throw up, he could end up in the hospital or worse. but if maki’s in no position to make himself vomit then…
harua groans, internally cursing nicholas for feeding maki drink after drink as he readjusts his position, “i’m only doing this so you don’t die...” he mutters as he attempts to brace himself with a half-apologetic, half-sarcastic quip that maki surely won’t remember at all. a tiny whine slips from maki’s mouth as harua pulls him up a tad higher by the back of his collar. a pang of guilt hits him, “i know, maki. just bear with me.” harua recoils slightly as he pushes his fingers into maki’s mouth. the younger makes a small noise of discomfort, but harua brushes it off as he pushes his fingers in deeper.
the pads of his fingertips run over maki’s bottom row of teeth, making contact with his tongue soon after. his mouth is already pooling with spit—a lot of it actually—so much of it that there’s already a trail of saliva beginning to creep down his wrist. it’s warm, all of maki is, especially the inside of his mouth. upon feeling maki’s tongue move against his fingers, harua freezes in place. he gulps as a familiar and unwelcome sensation settles in his groin. ‘no fucking way…’ he can’t tear his eyes away from the saliva dribbling out of maki’s mouth onto his chin and down his hand and wrist.
his heart beat kicks up, ‘shit, i can’t do this.’ harua thinks, and for a second, his fingers begin to retreat. ‘but…’ his movements come to a hesitant halt, fingertips resting against the inner side of maki’s bottom teeth. guiltily, harua does a once-over of maki’s drunken form. he can’t leave him like this. harua’s the only one home with him right now and if he leaves, the outcome could be way worse than having to power through the fucked-up arousal that’s adamant on bothering him. there’s no other way around it—maki needs to throw up. a full-body shudder runs over him from head to toe, “fuck…” he mumbles, fingers once again sliding into maki’s mouth.
harua ignores the mind-numbing heat that encapsulates his middle and ring fingers, and the endless string of spit that seems to run down his wrist and forearm, and the weak whimpers of protest that maki lets out due to his ministrations—and harua absolutely does not dwell on the way maki’s unaffected even as his fingers come into contact with his worryingly unflinching soft palate just barely above his uvula and the entrance of his throat.
no, his jeans are not beginning to feel uncomfortable. nothing like that is happening at all. harua gulps around an abnormal amount of spit in his mouth, “maki,” his voice definitely does not waver (it does—it totally does), “i’m going to press down now, okay? y–you need to throw up.” that’s right, maki needs this. although harua’s been speaking into a void, some part of him still feels compelled to say it out loud.
because that’s all this is—“that” and “this” only entailing harua being a good samaritan and an even greater friend. the growing heat in his groin has nothing to do with this; it doesn’t mean anything right now. and it certainly doesn’t mean anything at all when his cock twitches in his jeans as the first hard press of his fingertips against maki’s uvula makes the younger gag viciously. the action clearly caught him off-guard and harua’s guilt swallows him whole, “i know, maki. i’ll try to make this quick.”
the only noise he gets in response is a nearly inaudible mixture of a whine and sob. right now, maki’s eyes are shut tight. his chest is heaving with deep inhales and exhales—his brows are pinched as the strain of convulsions get to him. even with how hard he gagged, nothing came out and maki’s face and neck are left tinted red from the alcohol and the physical strain of being forced to vomit. ‘he looks… a little…’ no, no, no. that’s—
harua expels that train of thought with another jab. this time, he can feel the contractions of maki’s throat as the younger retches violently around his fingers. oh, shit. there’s so much saliva running down his forearm and the gentle warmth of it feels scalding. harua’s hand and wrist are so wet at this point and he seriously can’t focus on the matter at hand. is he insane? maki’s tongue flicks uselessly against him as he sobs, a broken and muffled sound that increases in volume as he tries to get away. “oh, no, maki—” harua quickly regains his bearings and grips the younger’s collar tighter, pulling him back into position, “shh, relax. i know it hurts, but please put up with it.” maki’s body begins to tremble as tears slowly fall down his face, one after another. harua bites back a groan once he realizes maki’s crying—he’s going to hell. ‘fuck..!’ he internally berates himself. god, he’s so fucking disgusting. how can he sit here and get hard in a situation like this?
…but then again, how could he not? maki sounds downright sinful, whining and crying around his fingers… no. harua just needs to get this over with already; he needs to make maki vomit, that’s all. then he can give the guy some water, haul him onto the couch, and finally disappear into his room so he can sleep this all off. yeah. that’s it. that’s all he has to do.
harua slips his other hand off the back-end of maki’s shirt collar to hold him more securely by his hair, nearly stumbling over himself when maki emits a devastatingly pathetic moan. harua pales, he’s so fucking hard. he actually got a goddamn erection while trying to make his friend puke. he takes in a long, shaky breath, "i’m sorry, maki." it feels pointless to apologize out loud when he’s already in this deep. he takes a second to brace himself, flexing his fingers and steadying his hand. harua exhales, then he’s striking the back of maki’s throat with as much force as he can muster. the reaction is immediate. bile bullies its way out of maki’s throat with enough force for it to nearly miss the opening of the toilet bowl. harua panics the second it begins, fixing maki’s stance the best he can while his friend is actively spasming as he vomits.
puke coats harua’s hand where his fingers stay to keep maki’s jaw open and his head in place. the watery and disgustingly warm sensation nearly makes harua gag. he manages to hold it together for the most part. one person throwing up every drink they had tonight is already more than enough. there’s a short moment of reprieve as maki quits throwing up, his body clearly preparing itself for the next wave. as gross as he feels right now, harua knows maki is feeling even worse. his friend kneels at his feet, quietly sobbing and sucking in sharp inhales as he tries to regain his footing. harua frowns, “i’m sorry, maki. i know it hurts, but it will be over soon.”
maki’s gaze follows the sound of harua’s voice. their eyes meet on the cue of maki’s tiny sniffle. his doe eyes are glossy with tears, both shed and unshed, glittering under the fluorescent lighting of their bathroom. the younger man leans forward, rubbing his cheek against the front of harua’s jeans in a drunk attempt to seek out comfort. “haa… lu–... a…” his name comes out muffled and broken up as maki speaks around his fingers.
harua looks up at the ceiling and shuts his eyes tight, gulping against all of the guilt constricting his throat while dick twitches in interest. ‘fuck, this is so fucked up.’ maki keeps rubbing his cheek on harua’s groin all because he’s scared—because he’s looking for some kind of respite in between his spells of nausea and full-body pain. maki’s only acting this way because he trusts harua and here he is getting hard while watching his friend throw up. he’s an awful, awful, horrible, terrible person for not even thinking about stopping maki at this moment.
just as harua decides to glance down, maki looks up at him. his glossy eyes only provide further fuel for harua's boner. but if that wasn't already enough, maki presses his face even closer. his full, pretty lips are smushed against harua's zipper, his fingers having fallen from maki's mouth when the younger moved his head. maki's eyes are half-lidded and he's very obviously not all there. lips plush to harua's zipper, maki mumbles, "…rua… h–hurts…" then he whines, and the vibrations crawl into harua's skin and bury themselves there.
with his eyes blown wide, harua is unblinking while he slowly slides his hand in between maki's lips and the metal of his zipper until his fingers land on the bar. almost reverently, harua's other hand, shaky and coated in a drying later of maki's spit and bile, lifts the younger's head up by his chin while he slides down his zipper. the air in the room grows heavier, weighing down harua's chest while his breaths grow deep and uneven as he releases his dick from the confines of his pants.
this is fucked. this is so fucking fucked. maki's barely aware of himself. he has no idea what's going on. harua's supposed to be helping him. not that this train of thought keeps harua from pressing the spongy head of his cock against maki's plush bottom lip. the younger's jaw hangs open, his spit pooling behind his lower lip until it dribbles onto the floor. maki's eyes aren't even open. he's too busy fighting off exhaustion to notice what's happening to him. however, harua finds that doesn't feel any guilt when he looks at him. he's in way too deep now, so he might as well see things all the way through.
the head of his dick slides over maki's lower lip, rubbing against the soft pink of his tongue until it gets stopped by a gag and the fluttering entrance of maki's throat. a thought comes to mind, 'oh, yeah…' harua chuckles dryly. the buzzing electrical sound that emanates from their bathroom light rings in his ears, 'i am supposed to be helping him throw up, aren't i?' without warning, and zero regard for maki, harua nearly pulls all the way out only to snap his hips forward and cruelly force his cock in deeper than before. maki retches again, his throat squeezing harua's cockhead so tight it makes the elder lightheaded. looking down at maki, harua continues to fuck his throat raw. harder, deeper, faster, meaner—all so he can watch maki's eyes go wide and bulge out every time he pops into his throat.
it's such a sight, honestly. maki's tears are falling constantly, with streams of tears rolling down his chin to mix with all the other fluids caked onto his shirt. even though he's grown so much taller and stronger than harua these past couple years, maki's unable to fight against him now. all he's able to do in this situation is weakly grip onto harua's thighs and try with all the might he doesn't currently possess to pull his mouth of his dick. that won't be happening though. harua makes sure of it by tightly fisting maki's hair and fucking his throat so deep that his nose practically smashes into his pubes.
harua's moaning unabashedly, not even caring about the possibility of the others coming home early and hearing him. it's really difficult to care about much of anything while maki's slobbering, retching, and crying all over his shaft. every convulsion and every sound sends unimaginable pleasure shooting up harua's spine. his hips move frantically, his eyes wide and manic as he stares at maki's face unflinchingly. the poor boy is so scared, snot dripping from his nose while he wails around harua's cock. it's so fucking good, fuck! why didn't he go for this earlier? forget all the morality bullshit, maki's unwilling throat spasming around his dick is too damn good.
a breathless laugh leaves harua's lips. he's gonna cum soon. he's gonna spill as deep inside maki's throat as he can. the younger begins clawing at harua's thighs with growing panic. maki's doing everything he can to pull away, but harua won't let him. a zap of white-hot pleasure travels from harua's groin all the way up into his skull to completely fry his brain. a loud groan echoes throughout the bathroom and he can feel his dick pulsing as he unloads rope after rope into maki's ruined throat. harua cums so hard his hearing fades into fuzz for a moment and his eyes roll to the back of his head. he's winded by the time he's finished, but he thankfully comes back to reality just as maki begins to vomit around his shaft.
with a sinister laugh, harua releases maki from his grip and watches his softening cock fall from the younger's lips. maki's head falls forward while puke gets ejected from his mouth in intervals that only last around two or three seconds before he's vomiting again. he continues like this until he's throughly emptied his stomach of all its contents. in the end, the bathroom floor, along with harua's pants, are covered in maki's bile. it's only when harua takes a second to assess the mess that he ends up feeling a little guilty. he clicks his tongue, his hand soothingly running over the short blonde strands of maki's hair. the younger is entirely out of it now, crying silently and sniffling as his cheek rests against harua's thigh for support. 'he's cute.' harua ruffles maki's hair, "let's get you cleaned up."