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Tooru loosens his tie, then takes a sip of beer. Hajime watches him, noting every little detail: the artfully mussed hair, the freckles sprinkled across his nose, and the way his eyes go distant whenever a thought crosses his mind.
Tooru blushes when he finally notices Hajime staring. "What?" he asks, laughing.
Hajime smiles and takes Tooru’s hand under the table. As he laces their fingers, Tooru's eyes crinkle, his mouth wobbling as he tries to hide his smile. So fucking adorable, Hajime thinks.
“They’re doing it again,” says Matsukawa.
“What?” asks Hanamaki. “What are they doing?”
“Making me aware of how single I am,” Matsukawa says, then chugs the rest of his beer.
Tooru searches Hajime's eyes. Hajime gives his hand a squeeze. The restaurant is pretty crowded, and people are probably staring, but Hajime couldn't care less. His only concerns are the look in Tooru’s eyes, and the feel of Tooru’s hand, warm and rough, in his.
A few hours later, they flop back onto their bed, gravitating into each other’s arms like always. After a few minutes of silly/serious kissing, Tooru says, “Wanna watch a movie?”
“Sure,” says Hajime.
“What do you wanna watch?” Tooru asks.
Hajime leans back against the pillows, and says, “Anything you want.”
“You’re gonna regret saying that,” says Tooru.
Hajime chuckles. “Hey. I know what I’m getting into,” he says.
An hour or so later, someone is screaming something about someone named Khan, but Tooru is nestled right between Hajime’s legs, and there’s nothing else in the world he would rather pay attention to. He nuzzles Tooru’s neck, breathing in that comforting scent of his, and Tooru is sort of melting, getting more and more relaxed as the movie goes on. When the movie’s almost over, Tooru makes a little noise—almost a whine, but not quite—takes Hajime’s hand, and guides it between his legs.
“Please?” Tooru says.
Heart fluttering, Hajime palms Tooru’s half-hard cock through his sweats, then, after a minute, reaches under the waistband. He strokes Tooru lightly, barely touching, reveling in his gasps, in the way his breathing gets more and more ragged. He plays with Tooru's foreskin, circling the sensitive frenulum with his forefinger until Tooru's back arches and his hips jerk, his whole body begging Hajime to let him come. Then, at last, Hajime wraps his whole hand around Tooru's cock, jerking him the rest of the way with rough, steady strokes. Tooru comes with his head tipped back and his lips parted, his pleasure dribbling down over Hajime's fingers, and Hajime closes his eyes, his chest swelling with pride, affection, and belonging.
When Tooru stops trembling, Hajime sucks each of his fingers clean while Tooru watches with eyes half-lidded. They’re molded to each other like putty now, both of their shirts damp with sweat.
“Wow,” Tooru breathes.
In answer, Hajime kisses Tooru’s ears.
When the movie ends, they head for the bathroom without a word; they both know their going to take a bath. It’s one of Hajime’s favorite activities, just soaking in the hot water with Tooru. They scrub each other clean while the water runs, and when they finally sink into the tub, the windows are thick with steam. Tooru lies back against Hajime’s chest with a sigh, and some of the water sloshes out onto the tiled floor, catching suds as it spirals down the drain.
Hajime kisses the sensitive place just below Tooru’s jaw, running his hands over Tooru’s belly. Tooru practically purrs, and he snuggles closer as Hajime’s hands continue their lazy explorations.
“I’m gonna get you back for earlier,” Tooru says.
“How are you going to do that?” Hajime asks.
“You’ll see,” Tooru says.
They soak for a good long while. They touch, and talk. And they sit in perfect, comfortable silence, enveloped in happiness and warmth, with nothing but their own skin between them. Hajime can feel the hot water working its magic on his back and shoulders; his workdays tend to be pretty exhausting, but coming home to this—to bad movies and hot baths with Tooru—is what keeps him going.
When the water goes lukewarm, they towel each other dry and scamper off to the bedroom. Remembering Tooru's promise, Hajime lies back on the bed, not bothering to hide his excitement.
Tooru—grinning like the devil himself—slides between Hajime's legs and wraps his fingers around Hajime’s dick, jerking lightly as he nuzzles his balls.
“Mmm,” Hajime moans.
And now Tooru’s kissing his way up Hajime’s cock, his soft, warm tongue painting him lazily—lovingly. When he reaches the head, he sucks gently, and Hajime groans in appreciation, threading his hands through Tooru’s still-damp hair.
“Want me to get the plug?” Tooru asks, his voice full of pleasure and amusement.
“Yes, please,” Hajime says.
Tooru kisses the tip of Hajime’s cock, then goes over to the dresser. He returns with lube and a butt plug. Hajime spreads his legs, all trust, and Tooru licks his lips at the sight of him; taking care to use a lot of lube, Tooru eases the plug into Hajime’s hole.
Hajime gasps as the plug slides into place. “Fuck,” he breathes.
Then, eager as can be, Tooru goes to town on Hajime’s dick, slurping and moaning, his warm saliva dribbling, sliding down Hajime’s balls. His tongue is so soft, his mouth looks so good, and oh, the way he squeezes with his lips—he doesn’t even have to take Hajime that deep. Hajime drinks in the sight of him, moaning his appreciation.
Tooru pulls off abruptly. Hajime groans, but Tooru is already reaching for the lube.
“I need you to fuck me,” Tooru says.
“Anything,” says Hajime, his breath coming hard.
Tooru fingers himself for a minute, making all the best little sounds. Then, when he’s good and lubed, he straddles Hajime’s hips. Hajime grips the sheets, waiting on tenter hooks while Tooru positions himself.
When Tooru slides down onto Hajime’s cock, they groan as one. They're both breathing hard. For several moments, all is still, like they’re in the eye of a hurricane. And Tooru certainly looks storm-tossed, all flushed and sweaty, his hair plastered to his forehead, his cock jutting between them, white moisture beading at the tip like liquid pearls.
“You’re gorgeous,” Hajime says—blurts. He can’t help but say it. It’s the truth.
Tooru almost laughs—Hajime can see it in his eyes—but then he clamps his mouth shut and glances away, embarrassed. Shy.
Hajime’s heart stutters. He knows Tooru gets like this sometimes. It’s endearing, but he needs Tooru to know. He needs Tooru to know how perfect he is. Hajime runs his finger up Tooru’s cock, needing to give as good as he’s been getting.
Tooru’s gasps. Then he starts to move, rocking up and back almost tentatively. His self-consciousness crumbles away little by little, until finally he sinks back onto Hajime's cock with deep, needy moan. That's when Hajime grabs his hips and starts thrusting upward, and Tooru positively dissolves, grunting and whimpering as he bounces up and down, his stringy precome pooling in Hajime’s navel.
“Fuck, Tooru,” Hajime says. The plug feels almost as amazing as Tooru does, and he can feel his orgasm approaching. “I’m gonna come.”
Tooru doesn't let up, and oh, he’s so tight, and a moment later Hajime closes his eyes as the pleasure washes through him, slaking him like water does thirst. Tooru leans down, murmuring beautiful nothings and kissing Hajime all over his face. Hajime kisses him back messily, breathing hard, his thighs flushed and quivering.
When the storm passes, Hajime looks Tooru dead in the eye, and says, “Fuck me.”
Eyes sparkling, Tooru eases off of Hajime’s cock with a little sigh, then helps Hajime shove a pillow under his butt for a better angle. When the pillow’s in place, Hajime throws his legs over Tooru’s shoulders, little echoes of pleasure rippling through him as Tooru removes the plug.
“You want me to fuck you?” Tooru asks.
“Yeah,” says Hajime.
“You gonna beg me for it?” asks Tooru.
“Please. Please fuck me,” Hajime says. He can feel Tooru's cock nudging at his entrance.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Tooru breathes, pushing past Hajime's hole.
Panting, Hajime reaches up to touch Tooru’s cheek, his eyes full of wonder.
“How do you feel?” Tooru asks.
“So good,” says Hajime.
“Ah, oh fuck,” says Tooru. “I’m not gonna last.”
“I don’t care. Just fuck me,” says Hajime.
“That doesn’t sound like begging,” Tooru teases.
“Please,” Hajime whines.
With wicked glint in his eye, Tooru pulls almost all the way out, then slides slowly back in. Hajime arches his back and claws at the sheets, bursting with little shocks of pleasure.
“Please,” Hajime says, his voice wavering. “Harder.”
“You want me to go harder?” asks Tooru. “Want me to pound your ass into the bed?”
“Yes,” Hajime groans. He feels like he's falling apart. “Please.”
Tooru kisses Hajime’s chin. “I love it when you beg,” he says. Then he pulls back, and slams back in.
“Ahhh,” Hajime moans.
A few thrusts later, Tooru is fucking him in earnest, driving into him with all the grace of a horny college student as Hajime gasps encouragement. Hajime spreads his legs as wide as he can, soaking up Tooru’s sounds, loving the way he trembles as he nears climax. Loving the feel of Tooru inside him.
“Oh fuck, Hajime,” Tooru says. “You make me feel so good—you’re going to make me c—ah!”
Tooru’s brows draw together as he spends, his long lashes splayed over red, red cheeks. Hajime watches him, memorizing all the little details. His throaty moans, the way light and shadow patterns over his skin. The unbelievable sense of closeness. Things Hajime never wants to forget.
Tooru's neck is covered in sweat, and he's breathing like he just got off the court. When he opens his eyes, he grins like he just won the olympic gold. Hajime laughs and pulls him down for a kiss, the sounds and the scents etching themselves into his ribs, twining themselves around his heart.
When their sweat begins to dry, Hajime leads them into the shower, and kisses Tooru senseless under the warm stream. While Tooru blowdries his hair (it’s still longer and floofier than Hajime’s), Hajime changes out the bedclothes like any good partner should. Then, when Tooru returns, they switch off the lights and snuggle up under warm, clean blankets, drunk on joy and love.
They’re completely wrapped up in each other, not an inch of space left between them, but for some reason Hajime says, “C'mere, babe,” and squeezes Tooru that much closer.
Tooru laughs, and squeezes him back. “I’m already here,” he says.
“Not close enough,” Hajime murmurs.
“Is there a such thing as too close?” Tooru asks.
“Nope,” Hajime replies.