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Shoutarou's fingers dig into the sheets of paper scattered over his desk. They wrinkle into a horrible mess, tearing beneath his finger nails, but it's the only thing he had the chance to grab onto when Philip appeared. He groans and curls forward a little as the slender hands working in his pants do something complicated, bending in ways that feel unnatural, but mind-numbingly wonderful.
"Oh god," he groans, and "Hold on a second," Philip replies and then he's bending over, mouth opening, the tip of his tongue peeking out as his lashes hide the look in his eyes. He's hot and wet and his lips are soft and the stroke of his tongue even softer. Shoutarou whimpers helplessly and throws an arm over his face, because he honestly has no idea what's going on or why this is happening, but Philip is, Philip is. . . .
"Mmph," he says, around the weight of Shoutarou in his mouth, like he's trying to speak. He pulls back with slow deliberance, panting as air returns to his lungs. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting that," he clarifies, and Shoutarou barely registers it from around the sound of his blood rushing in his ears and the blur of his crossed vision.
When Philip's head sinks back down, this time his fingers join him, dancing in light, aching patterns over his balls. His lips sound obscene, wet and Shoutarou's legs try to spread, but they tangle in his pants and he lets out a sharp, frustrated noise, that he bites back on, to embarassed and over all confused to let it free.
He comes embarrassingly quickly after that, barely gasping out a warning before Philip has his head all the way down, swallowing him whole and taking the bulk of his load. Shoutarou's fingers squeeze in his own hair, tugging at it and sending little sparks out to match the ones screaming out from his crotch as Philip swallows around him. He blacks out a little. Not the most dignified of responses, but it's so sudden and Shoutarou's defenses are down and honestly what?!
"What," he says, from the boneless heap he's melted into in his chair. "No, really, what? Am I dreaming? Philip? Philip?!" He kind of can't feel his legs. "Philip," he repeats, one last time, in case he's just-- his mouth is just-- oh god. Oh god. "Philip," he roars and surges to his feet, but he trips over his pants and nearly face plants into the wall. They're still tangled around his ankles and his cock is still flying free, the wet spit on it slowly drying in the air of the office.
And of course, the door handle takes that moment to decide to slowly spin in its place. Shoutarou lets out a startled noise, something like chickens meeting stomping feet, and yanks his pants up as fast as humanly possible. Of course, he pulls too hard and his cock is still sensative and he doubles over from pain before he can quite manage to zip them up.
"I'm ba~ck," Akiko's voice drifts in, singing in the air. She pauses just inside the door way, head tilted to one side. "Shoutarou? Are you okay?"
"Great, fine," he wheezes, curled over his injured bits, one hand on his desk for support. "Why would anything be wrong, nothing is wrong. There is nothing wrong."
"Oh. Right," Akiko says, then turns away. "I was looking for Philip anyways." And this time Shoutarou nearly chokes on his own spit as she walks away. He's nearly caught his breath back, when she pokes her head in again.
"Your fly's undone," she says and Shoutarou slips on the papers still strewn all over.
"Oh god," Shoutarou repeats and sits back down into his chair, because standing is clearly not doing anything for him right now. "Oh my god."
And of course he can't ask him about it because later, when they both come back into the main room, Akiko keeps hovering and Philip is acting like nothing even happened and for the rest of the day Shoutarou is left sitting at his desk in confusion. He feels like someone stuffed him full of literal question marks, bloated and bewildered.
And then Shoutarou remembers Philip is, effectively, not a month over 17. They'd just celebrated his birthday last week.
"Ugh, Shoutarou, seriously, if you're sick you should go sleep. You've been looking weird all day," Akiko says, rolling her eyes as she sits at the table, stirring her coffee absently, replying to the primordial noise that Shoutarou made upon his revelation. "Weirder, I mean."
"Wha-- I'm not a pervert," Shoutarou replies in a strangled voice. "Why are you calling me a pervert?" Something smacks him on the back of the head and he yelps.
"What are you thinking," Akiko snaps, from her sudden position behind him. "Get your head out of the gutter."
"How can I get it out of the gutter when other people keep putting it there?!"
"Ugh, what are you even talking about,"Akiko replies, smacking him again. "Go take a shower or something!" Which is really not a bad idea because his pants still feel sticky and his cock is worse and there's nothing better than a cold shower to wake you up. The water falling on his skin, the soft steam rising to fog the glass, the perfect to hide the lurking form of his partner as he slipped into the bathroom and slammed open the door, shoving Shoutarou against the wall and-- "I don't need a shower."
"Why are you looking at me like that," he asks later still Terui Ryuu, who's come by to accost their coffee maker again. Terui Ryuu tips his spoonful of coffee grounds into the trap and shuts the lid.
"The guilty man is the first to protest," he says, easily, and then suddenly Shoutarou's brain is racing in every direction, trying to remember every clause and condition of Fuuto's age of consent laws.
"Joke's on you," he says finally, leaning back in his chair. "Because I haven't done anything wrong." Fuuto's law was very clear that it wasn't statutory as long as the person was over 17. Thank the only god of luck he had on his side right now.
Terui Ryuu just gives him an odd look and goes back to his coffee
"Ne, Philip," Akiko hisses in what she clearly thinks is a quiet whisper, leaning in close to Philip who's sitting at the high table with her. "Do you know what's wrong with Shoutarou? He's been acting kind of funny all day."
Philip tilts his head, hand on his chin and Shoutarou holds his breath.
"No. I'm not entirely sure. He hasn't said anything about it to me." Shoutarou lets it all out in a quiet huff and resumes typing.
"Though it may be the blow job I gave him earlier today."
Three sets of heads whip up to stare at him and Shoutarou's lungs put on his hat and leave out the front door, completely done with living in his body today.
"You what," Akiko squeaks.
"I find him physically attractive," Philip says, absently as he turns his attention back to his book. "I wanted to show him my appreciation." Shoutarou's left arm is feeling weirdly numb.
"Oh," Akiko says, still in that high pitched voice and Terui Ryuu suddenly turns his head to stare at Shoutarou, eyes far too large in his head, and his mouth turned down in a parody of a frown. Shoutarou just wheezes and clutches harder at his chest.
"Well-- well," Akiko says. "Usually people don't talk about it like that." Philip glances up.
"Oh. Is that so?"
And Akiko nods vigorously, Terui Ryuu echoing it at a more sluggish pace, still staring intensely at Shoutarou.
"Can we change the subject," Shoutarou finally manages under the weight of that stare. "Forever. And ever. I don't want to talk about this with the violent crackpot and her husband in the room okay? Okay?" He pleads. Philip blinks at him, but he relents, nodding once and then going back to whatever his research for the day was. Akiko shrieks indignantly and throws a slipper at his head.
At the end of the day Philip and he are the only ones left, and Shoutarou suddenly wishes intensely that he had the money to invest in an actual apartment.
"Ahem," he says. Philip says nothing, apparently waiting.
"Err," Shoutarou says and Philip sighs and rolls his eyes, coming forward to stand in front of him. Shoutarou doesn't bother resisting the urge to cover his crotch and Philips frowns.
"Did you not like it?" He asks. "Was there something wrong with my technique? The book I found in the library said--"
"No, it's not that," Shoutarou says, hastily, in a high pitched voice. "It's not that at all. I-- I don't like surprises?" He tries and something clears in Philip's face.
"Ah," he says, then he's suddenly leaning forward, trapping him in the his chair and looking him right in the eyes, not more than a few inches away. "Shoutarou," he says.
"Uh," Shoutarou replies, and feels his face heat.
"I think you have mayonnaise in your hair."
Shoutarou splutters at him, hand coming up to his head and Philip laughs, soft and amused. And then he leans in and closes the gap between them to kiss him on the nose.
"I'll be waiting if you'd like to come to bed with me," he says and then he straightens and turns away, slipping into the nook and sliding the curtain shut behind him.
"Ah," Shoutarou says, then, "That's the only bed!"