Work Text:
With a soft click, the door opened, and Yukina stepped inside, calling out a quiet tadaima to his empty apartment. He turned the heater on and removed his jacket and hat, eager to shed his work clothes in favor of a comfortable pair of pajama pants and a long sleeve tee. While it had been no busier than usual at the bookstore, Yukina was tired, and even though he had sketches to complete for a future painted piece, he couldn’t find it in him to work up the motivation to get started on them just yet.
His bag set down, he reached for his belt, unbuckling it before starting in on the button and zip of his pants. He kicked them off and in the general direction of his laundry hamper before taking a seat on the edge of his bed and letting himself fall onto his back with a sigh. The air in the room had not yet warmed up to a comfortable temperature, and he was reluctant to remove his shirt just yet, the lower half of his body already feeling the still-cool breeze coming from the heater. He shivered faintly, goosebumps prickling his skin, and slid his hand down to rest on his stomach. Invariably, his thoughts turned to his night at the bookstore.
He had shown up again today.
Even though the guy was doing his level best to remain out of sight at all times, it was near impossible for Yukina not to feel those eyes on him while he worked. At first, he tried to pass it off as a figment of his imagination, as there was never anyone looking at him when he glanced around the shop floor. But it had happened enough times now that he could no longer ignore it. The kid obviously had some kind of crush on him. That was the only logical explanation for why he showed up at the store nearly every night, never making a purchase or any kind of contact with him, only staying just far enough away as to not be obvious to the casual onlooker.
In a way, Yukina was flattered. Granted, it was normally girls who came to the store specifically to see him, and he had no qualms about using that to his advantage to increase the shoujo manga department’s sales, but if there was a guy out there who found him attractive, he wasn’t one to judge. From what he could see of the guy’s face, peeking out from behind some random magazine or manga volume as it often was, he seemed to be cute. And judging from his height and boyish features, he was probably a high-schooler. At the very least, he couldn’t have been any older than Yukina himself.
What was it about him that the guy found so charming that he kept coming back day after day? Was his attraction to Yukina based solely on looks? Given that they had barely spoken to each other, and he didn’t even know the guy’s name, it couldn’t have been anything else. And even though Yukina had never been interested in a guy before—at least not romantically—he found himself thinking about him more and more often. With the way he was always there, how could he not?
Sometimes Yukina liked to think about what they might say to each other if they ever spoke. With the way he looked, and as shy as he was, he figured he probably had a soft, boyish voice. Did he like art? He hung around the manga department enough, maybe they could talk about the titles they liked. Maybe they’d grab a bite to eat and get to know each other. And then maybe he’d invite the guy back to his place and Yukina would get the chance to see that cute face of his not just sneaking nervous, furtive glances, but twisted up in pleasure.
…Wait a minute.
Yukina’s eyes went wide. What was he just thinking about? Sure, the guy was attractive, but he didn’t want to sleep with him or anything. Right? There was a huge difference between liking someone’s looks and being sexually attracted to them. And after twenty-one years, Yukina was pretty damn sure that the objects of his sexual attraction were limited to girls. Guys just didn’t really do anything for him.
Try though he might to convince himself of that, there was one part of him that clearly disagreed. Swallowing around the lump in his throat at what he might find, he slowly slid the hand on his stomach down further, letting it come to rest atop his underwear-clad cock. No, he wasn’t hard, but there was definitely some heat building beneath his palm. He gave himself a brief squeeze, felt his cock twitch in response, and bit his lip. Was he really getting hard thinking about a guy?
Surely, it was a fluke. He could picture any number of attractive girls who could get him off in a number of creative ways. Maybe that wide-eyed, pouty-lipped girl in a skimpy bikini he saw on the cover of a photobook at work the other night. He bet she knew how to make a guy feel good. She certainly cut a nice figure: slim, curvy, with large, dark eyes that could pull you right in, and short black hair that somehow never quite fell in his eyes…
Not again.
Yukina sighed and threw a hand up to cover his face. Apparently even when the guy wasn’t around, he could still affect him. But there was definitely no way Yukina would ever be able to get off to the thought of some nameless guy, who, for all he knew, was a veritable stalker. And to make himself feel better about this heat steadily pooling between his thighs, he was going to prove it.
Eyes closed, he began to move his hand, palming his cock through his boxer-briefs as his mind helpfully, if a little too easily, supplied him with an image of the bookstore guy. He tried to imagine himself undressing the guy, pushing his shirt up around his underarms so he could run his hands over the smooth, baby soft skin of his torso and his tight nipples, which Yukina was sure would be a rosy pink.
Well see, there was the first problem. What fun was there in playing with a guy’s chest? If he wanted to feel hard muscle without the softness of breasts, he could just as easily run his hand over his own torso. Convinced that this was a major win for his heterosexuality, he pressed on, not at all discouraged by the way his body was slowly responding to the stimulus of his hand.
Okay, as he pictured it, the guy had a nice body. Maybe Yukina would give that soft skin a taste and pull a few breathy moans from his lips. In the natural course of events, he’d let his hands wander as he teased those pink nipples with the rasp of teeth and the practiced swipe of a tongue, stroking over the guy’s side, and down further, to the button on his pants. It wouldn’t take much effort to get them open, especially with the way the guy would be encouraging him both vocally and with his hands running down Yukina’s arms. He’d pull back and straighten himself upright so he could tug the guy’s pants down, only to find him already hard beneath his boxers and adorably embarrassed about it.
Yukina’s breath was coming harder now, and it was with a sinking sense of dread that he realized the guy in his mind’s eye wasn’t the only one who was hard. Fuck. How did this happen? He wasn’t supposed to get turned on; he was supposed to be turned off by the thought of having another guy all hot and bothered beneath him. But well, since he’d come this far, he couldn’t exactly stop now…
Lifting his hips, Yukina tugged his underwear down, exposing his cock to the cool air, and took it in his hand, giving it a few slow strokes as it came to full hardness, throbbing hot and hard against his palm. Resigning himself to his fate, he reached over the edge of his bed to grab the lotion he normally kept nearby for dry skin and squeezed some into his palm. He hissed softly at the cold lotion coming into contact with the heat of his cock, but it did nothing to ease the ache building within him.
He watched as his hand moved over his shaft, smoothly gliding upward and pressing against the crown on its way back down. It didn’t take long before he was imagining it was that guy’s hand on him, curled tight around him and stroking quickly, assuredly, knowing just how to move to bring him the maximum amount of pleasure. He would, of course, since they were both guys. If nothing else, Yukina figured that, at least, was a benefit of this whole situation.
Several minutes passed, and Yukina found his eyes closing again, losing himself to the pleasures of his own hand. And for the first time, he found himself wanting. He wanted to be able to touch this guy. He wanted to know exactly how soft and smooth his skin was, how hot and hard his cock would feel in his grip. He wanted to feel the weight of it against his palm and trace his fingers over its smooth curve. He wanted to stroke and to be stroked, and to press their dicks together and let the hurried, clumsy slip and glide and the rocking of their hips take them long into the night.
Yukina was bucking his hips up into his own hand now, imagining the way that breathy voice would keen in pleasure as the guy neared his peak, and it would only be Yukina who could bring him there. “Nngh…I’m going to—!“ he’d whine, collapsing forward against Yukina’s chest as he came, the thick ribbons of his cream dripping down over his fingers, seeming to burn wherever it touched.
Panting heavily, Yukina let go himself, coming harder than he had in recent memory and dirtying his shirt in the process, left trembling, sticky, and bewildered in the wake of what he had just done. When he finally dared to open his eyes again, he glanced down the length of his body. He was a mess. Slowly, he lifted his hand, staring at the milky liquid stubbornly clinging to his fingers. He had just gotten off to the thought of jerking off another guy. And not just any guy, either—a frequent customer he had never spoken to. But even he couldn’t lie to himself and say he didn’t enjoy every last heart-pumping, breath-stealing, toe-curling minute of it.
Well, this was new.