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— "You wanna come over to my place and play a few games with me?"
This text, that would have been completely normal to any other person, made Mikoto want to personally run up to Heaven and high-five God Himself.
Fuuta has always been a more reserved guy. Didn't talk much. Sat at the back of the class silently taking notes or doodling before immediately going back to his dorm to catch up on sleep after the lecture had ended. From the words of their classmates, it seemed he was quite foul-mouthed, on top of having a bit of a temper, but poor conduct and barely passing grades be damned, Fuuta was unfairly cute!
With the kind of person Mikoto was, it was a miracle they had even gotten to know each other, only ever passing one another in the hallways at first. He sat nearer to the front and never saw Fuuta in class, so those brief glances they exchanged while walking around campus were all he was getting from his crush for a while.
He was just about prepared to suck it up and get real, but finally, after lots of delusional pining, he noticed him putting away his things, and he managed to muster up the courage to talk to him. Despite still being pretty closed off, Fuuta had actually entertained the half-baked compliment Mikoto gave his shoes, and with that, he was one step closer to this boy's hand in marriage! Huzzah!!
Six or seven months of getting to know each other brought them considerably close, but this was the first time Fuuta had ever invited him over to his place. In fact, the first time Fuuta had ever made plans for Mikoto instead of the other way around. He couldn't help but feel a little giddy. Random texts about school stuff and now he was suddenly nervous to knock on the door of a boy he's known for over half a year, just how useless was he? He wondered.
Knock, knock!
Fuuta opened the door about a second later, mumbling a simple "Hey," which Mikoto returned as he was welcomed inside. The place was normal, nothing too noteworthy, but so characteristically Fuuta—various posters of titles he didn't recognize cover the walls, relatively clean aside from a few strewn out clothes on the back of his chair, and a console already set up by the TV. All these things were expected of him. It was Fuuta himself that caught his eye.
The redhead had always dressed casually, obviously without the intent to impress anyone. At his dorm, he dressed with the even more casual mindset of "no one's gonna see me anyway", but, fuck, was Mikoto impressed.
A hoodie and shorts. That was it. The oversized clothing fit nicely around his upper body, obscuring his torso, yet simultaneously drawing attention to his legs, appearing completely bare as his shorts disappeared beneath the hoodie. Mikoto wondered if Fuuta would look the same dressed in his clothes. Their height difference wasn't too stark, but it was noticeable enough that his shirts would probably reach Fuuta’s thighs should he ever wear them. The mental image was attractive, to say the least.
It got even harder to act natural when they both sat down and Fuuta started destroying him in whatever they were playing (please note, his horny thoughts could not have prevented this, he just sucks). Fuuta was what one would call a full-body gamer. He didn't just move his hands—he moved in coordination with his character, stuck his tongue out and furrowed his eyebrows whenever he was concentrated, and even did that dumb lean forwards into the screen whenever he decided to get serious. Mikoto had to restrain himself from being a weirdo and just staring at Fuuta the entire time, but thankfully, the other didn't seem to pay too close of an attention.
"Mikoto. You good?" he asked, setting aside his controller.
Or not.
"Yes...?" he stammered nervously. "W-Why wouldn't I be?" Fuuta turned to him. Briefly, he wondered if they were always sitting this close.
"Well, I just can't really imagine it's that fun to get your ass kicked for like, four rounds in a row." he huffed, exiting the game. "Want something less PvP oriented?"
"I'm... I'm fine with just watching you play with yourself-" Fuuta raised an eyebrow. "N-Not what I meant! Just, like, singleplayer. As they call it? Right." God, send the firing squad.
"Whatever. It's not you. I should have thought less about myself when I brought you over, I guess." How could he just say that like he was the one being weird? Mikoto was glad he was even given the time of day.
Shuddering, he watched Fuuta get off the edge of the bed and onto his hands and knees to scour for a different game to play. Because of course he kept them in the lowest drawer of his closet. "It's fine! I still had some fun!" he insisted, his voice strained. Fuuta glared, but ended up brushing it off.
Eventually, Fuuta pulled out a cartridge that he deemed a little more interesting than the others and returned to his earlier position. Meanwhile, Mikoto was stuck playing Hide Boner Simulator like he had been for the past ten minutes.
The new game Fuuta picked out for himself was notably a lot more relaxed than the fighting game from earlier. It was one of those fantasy types where you're a medieval traveler running around doing quests and such. The room fell quiet, not many words exchanged between the two of them aside from Mikoto asking a few questions to release a bit of tension. It was definitely a lot easier for him to handle, but it didn't help him from feeling flustered. Just Fuuta's resting face allowed his mouth to gape slightly in admiration—watching his thick eyebrows knitted together above a slight pout, his half lidded eyes peering up at the screen through pretty eyelashes.
This scene—Fuuta within perfect kissing distance—is one he's imagined many times. The fact that it was actually happening then made everything seem so surreal. He had always convinced himself he'd be super cool and super smooth; that Fuuta would be the speechless one blushing like a lovesick idiot before their lips finally met for the first time. Now he can't stop inwardly screaming about how rough the reality is treating him.
The new atmosphere allowed Fuuta to calmly rest his head against Mikoto's shoulder. What's more, the boy was nothing short of unamused, deft hands still firmly grasped around a controller like he didn't notice anything amiss. Neither of them dared to move, both for their own reasons. "Say...." Fuuta turned to him with the most innocent start he could muster.
"While we were playing, were you looking at me, or was that just my imagination?" He was teasing, undoubtedly. His tone made it clear he had noticed from the start, and just wanted to keep his mouth shut.
"... I.. I-I." he stammered, knowing he had been caught.
Fuuta then let his gaze travel downwards, chuckling to himself as his eyes met proof of the other man's arousal with such little effort or contact. "You're not exactly sneaky, you know." Upon quitting the game, there was only silence. No more distractions, only themselves and their own desires left between them.
"Hey,"
"You're so... clo...-"
"Mikoto." he smirked, hooking a finger under the hem of his boxers, pulling low enough to see his cock gently perking up from beneath his hoodie. "Still want to see me play with myself?"
Totally not what he meant, but he'd be an idiot to pass up the offer.
And all he could do was watch. "Fuck, yes."
The younger pulled his underwear down further to eventually get discarded on the floor. Mikoto stiffened at the sight of Fuuta's inner thighs, lined wet with pre-cum, which told him he wasn't the only one struggling to contain his excitement.
Fuuta's hoodie quickly fell into a pile with the rest of his clothes, leaving only his binder to uselessly cover up his chest as if every other part of his body wasn't already fully exposed. He closed his eyes and leaned further against Mikoto, almost burying his head into his shoulder. His legs gently spread apart, and without much resistance, he slowly pressed his index finger inside. His thighs immediately shook from the intrusion. One became two not long after, slowly opening himself up in unison, though he had too much pride to let himself moan too shamelessly.
Fuuta masturbated a lot more than he would like to admit, yet cumming was something he was never able to do alone, embarrassingly so. This was the most aroused he had ever been, and it was painful. His fingers weren't nearly enough to satisfy, no matter how much he curled them. With his free hand, he squeezed around Mikoto's wrists tightly in order to ground himself, and that was stupidly the only contact he allowed the older to have. The fact that Mikoto's hands were a lot bigger; that what he needed was just intertwined between his strengthless fingers, but wasn't allowed to touch by Fuuta's own made-up rules made him shudder in desperation, chasing the need for release.
Another thrust of his hips upward, his whines muffle into Mikoto's neck. The other was quickly mesmerized by the way Fuuta pleasured himself, watching him move through an unrhythmic pattern of in and out. Just above that, his cock twitched prematurely as his thumb reached to circle around the small nub for more stimulation, the space growing impossibly more wet between his legs.
Despite his clouding lust, he still had the energy to tease; to act like a brat. When he finally craned his neck up to meet Mikoto's gaze, he only indulged him in cheek kisses and moans so high and sweet they sounded purposeful. Perhaps it would have been annoying were he fucking anyone else. Mikoto, however, found it unbelievably alluring. The effect he had on him, where Mikoto allowed himself to be restrained by a boy who was by all means a victim of his own urgency, was incomparable.
Fuuta simpered. "Fine, here." he sighed adoringly, like he was doing Mikoto a favor. In many ways, he was. Though in reality, he definitely just didn't want to beg for what he wanted when he already presented himself so highly.
Releasing his hold on Mikoto's wrists, his free hand gently hikes up his binder, just enough to expose a pair of puffy nipples. "Don't suck too hard." was his only order. Regardless if Fuuta vocalized this request or not though, Mikoto would not have followed it either way.
His lips immediately latch onto an erect nipple when he's given the chance, sucking hard enough to produce milk. Logically, there isn't any, but Mikoto envisioned a hint of sweetness anyway, diligently lapping at his own saliva as it dripped down Fuuta’s fair skin like honey.
"Ahn..." The redhead moaned. A genuine one. One that sent Mikoto reeling by the time he heard it. His actions were hasty and noticeably uncoordinated by then, thrusting his fingers as deep into himself as he could before he pulled Mikoto's face closer, his mouth already closed around his other nipple. With his orgasm seconds away, he forced the older off, and into their first real kiss, cum gushing around the curves of his digits.
Trembling again, his breath hitched as he slid out. Experimentally, he brought the offending fingers up to his view, watching cum stick between them lewdly as he spread them out with unfocused eyes. Mikoto looked on with similar awe.
Fuuta acknowledged his staring this time, humming questioningly when he followed his gaze.
".... You want it?" he asked.
Without much of a second thought, Mikoto grabbed his hand, licking his index and middle fingers clean. The taste almost made up for not being able to make Fuuta come himself. Almost.
To make Fuuta beg; scream for him—another scene he's imagined in the past. Mikoto felt spoiled to even be allowed touch. Although he tended to bruise easily, Fuuta's skin was completely unblemished. He shouldn't. But by all means, he was painfully unsatisfied.
"They don't have to be fantasy, Mikoto." This voice wasn't unfamiliar. In fact, they were closely acquainted. "Make them real. Make him yours." without question—he knew his desires more than anyone. Would he call himself depraved or just insatiable?
He pulled off with a small groan, vulgarly wiping his mouth with his sleeve after he swallowed. Fuuta seemed proud.
"Holy shit..." he smiled.
"Fuu-chan..."
With Mikoto's head still pressed against his chest, Fuuta took the opportunity to muss up his hair, a bit dumbfounded at how his cowlick stayed perfectly intact.
"You look like you're on the verge of crying."
"God... I might as well be."
"... Is this your first time?" Fuuta asked warmly, pulling his binder above his arms.
"... With a guy."
He wasn't too surprised, only giving an amused hum as he reached between them to purchase Mikoto's zipper, pulling down harshly. "Then..."
Fuuta sat a few paces away between Mikoto's legs as if to mentally prepare himself, reaching for the hem of his boxers with about half the confidence he had earlier. He had to stop himself from darting his tongue out to lap at the head the moment he saw it. The instant relief Mikoto felt unsettled with the presence of still wet, sinuous fingers rearing around the base, stroking loosely. Fuuta looked up at him, a tall shadow casted in the middle of his upturned eyes.
"Don't feel guilty about this, but I'm a complete virgin."
How could he not fuck him after that?
His lack of experience was obvious by his actions, uncertain and experimental, but they weren't unwelcomed. His tongue flattened against the underside of his cock, licking a long, wet stripe up to the head, where he placed a soft kiss. Eventually, his lips were wrapped around it. He sucked lightly, keeping his eyes on Mikoto as if to gauge his reaction, while the other simply responded with an encouraging hand on the back of his head. Not to push him further, just patting him gently.
Fuuta took that as a sign to continue. He took more of it into his mouth, just breathing around it for a while until he decided to use his tongue, hollowing out his cheeks as the sound of slurping drew out from him lewdly.
As both of them expected, he couldn't force much in, only managing a little less than half until he began to choke. Though it wasn't an issue, just inconvenient.
To relieve his mouth, he used his hands to fulfill what he couldn't quite reach, lingering with the intent of bringing Mikoto to completion. Fuuta could feel every time he twitched in his heat. As he eagerly hummed around the length, the older was rendered completely helpless, straining even his breathing as he tucked a strand of hair behind Fuuta's ear. With his head swimming, not much got through to him that wasn't pleasure and muffled whines.
Having already been adrenalized since he was welcomed inside, it wasn't hard for him to feel his release approach. It must have taken his entire weight to hold back from just pulling Fuuta's hair and making him take it all, of course, concerned if he had permission.
"Fuuta..." he groaned out. "I'm... I'm gonna...-" The amount of pressure the man's throat could take was being pushed to its limits by his own accord, to the point of feeling it convulse around Mikoto's cock. Even while his eyes grew wide and teary, did he whine and frantically nod for him to go ahead. Then, before he could even process any more pain—
"Mmh-! Mppphh....!!"
—Mikoto's lust pooled from the inside of his mouth. With his throat still sore, it was hard not to choke when it had already been pushed back so far. Cum mixed with his saliva and spilled out from the sides of his lips though he hungrily tried to keep them sealed, not wanting to pull off of his dick until Mikoto's orgasm was over, drinking in every single rope of white that indulged itself over and over until it seemed exhausted.
Fuuta, however, didn't relent. He let it all sit in the kink of his heat, before he sloppily lapped up to suck even harder at the head, as if to spur another orgasm out of him. His hand similarly kept its place, incessantly moving up and down with no signs of stopping, an expression so unmistakably predatory spreading across his features.
Mikoto could almost hear his muffled cries between his lips although they overflowed with his sperm, pleading:
"More..... more....."
He would be the one taking initiative? The one with the strange kinks? Goodness, months of endless pining and Mikoto was still finding out new things about him.
— Fuck... this brat....
"Plug his nose." came a suggestion. "That'll teach 'em.”
Overstimulated, he forced him off instead, watching his essence trickle from Fuuta's tongue.
"You don't have to swallow-"
He was quickly cut off by a deep gulp of exactly that.
"Blehh...."
"You're... pretty greedy, aren't you?"
"You're still hard. I think you can cum again." he gently prodded at his dick.
"Th-That's not the point! You... did all that and it was..."
Mikoto looked down, speechless as Fuuta lightly blew air over a vein.
"No way... you've got to be lying... There's no way a virgin would be that good...."
"You calling me a slut?"
Mikoto chuckled, speaking evenly with a tone only sexual frustration could control. "Well. Kind of."
"What the hell???"
"Although I doubt anyone else would want to fuck you....."
The comment was met with a petty slap on his dick.
"Ack- Fuu-chan!! That hurts a lot as a guy, you know...?!"
"If you still want to score, quit being an ass." he weakly crawled back onto the bed, collapsing against the pillows. Mikoto followed closely behind. Within seconds, he was hovering over his body.
"But you're more than just a quick score to me, Fuuta...! You're the whole world! You're everything...!!"
Fuuta could almost swoon if what Mikoto was saying wasn't so cringy. He tilted his head curiously, bringing him close.
"Wanna prove it to me?"
"Don't ask questions you already know the answers to."
Mikoto stripped off the rest of his clothes to take the edge off Fuuta before bringing him into another kiss, a bit less feverish and sloppy than their first, but equally as desperate.
His love pinned down, Mikoto had full access to his pliant, threadlike frame to do as he pleased—a privilege he much awaited after being tortured so cruelly. Aligning his dick atop Fuuta's stomach, he let his hands slip under the delicate curve of his chest. He squeezed gently, pretending to arrange his breasts despite their small size, before thumbing at his nipples, watching them tense underneath his touch.
"Haah... that's...."
And what's more—Fuuta was nothing short of aroused.
The angle their position brought allowed them to rub their cocks together. Mikoto started like that, as innocently as he could, his hands still squeezed around his chest. He slotted his dick between his folds, and immediately did he feel Fuuta's hole throb against him, clenching around nothing as if to beckon him inside. His tip flicked incessantly against his clit as he began to rock back and forth at a teasing pace, wanting to work the redhead up before he actually filled him. The heat was great, and Fuuta was already whining, once again proving Mikoto he could become wetter. It was like a taste of what they both wanted, if anything. The sight was breathtaking, but they both knew they were dragging this out.
"..... Mikoto."
"Yes?"
"..... Please."
That was what he liked. Sweat beading down the side of Fuuta's cheek, uncoiled and exposed underneath his unworthy gaze, ready to take his cock.
That was all he needed.
A hand placed itself atop Fuuta's stomach, steadying himself for what was to come. Fuuta responded by purchasing on that very arm. He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, knowing the ache that would come from the stretch.
"Ahhhn- Mikoto...!!" came a long, drawn out moan.
The real thing was a sensation he could have never prepared for with just his fingers. It breached him slowly, allowing him to feel his inner walls molding itself on every inch of penetration.
— Please tell me it's all the way in.... He inwardly cried.
Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, Mikoto was nowhere close.
His hips shuddered as he continued to press in. As he fully sheathed his dick, he dug his nails into Fuuta's thighs, kissing deeply into his cervix with a careful thrust.
The presence of a hymen wasn't at all a surprise, but Fuuta's honesty was a nice prospect. For a moment, he relished in the tight squeeze, utterly amazed at how well Fuuta took him. Calling him pure, even then but especially now, would be a bare-faced lie, so he was simply glad to be the first (and last).
"Slut." Mikoto found, on the other hand, was perfectly befitting.
"Yours...."
Fuuta answered breathlessly—so desperately it was unlike him. There was something about the way he whispered; the slight part of his lips like he was caught in a gasp that set him apart from the ill-tempered scowl of his that Mikoto had grown used to. What he felt for that face was love too, but he knew this side of him would be a difficult view to get out of his head. One that not even their classmates would have the chance to whisper about or shake their heads at, because it was all his. He was his.
— Beautiful. he thought bleary, rocking into him once more.
And being a designer, he knew how to appreciate beautiful things.
He had to be gentle, at least at first.
He began to set a steady pace, as if to familiarize himself with Fuuta's body—each thrust met with a barely audible groan from beneath him, evidently hushed from louder noises being held back.
Mikoto mused to himself, torn between wanting to hear more of Fuuta, and what might follow should anyone hear. Even knowing this, he decided to recklessly abandon said rationale, the idea of testing Fuuta's ability to keep himself quiet more exciting to him.
He hardened his grip on Fuuta's thighs as he drew out of his hole suddenly, indulging himself in how the man's face contorted pleasantly with the loss of contact. It was when only the head was left prodding at his entrance do they see the strings of fluid left behind, connecting their bodies even when Mikoto nearly withdrew from him completely. It's also then Mikoto realized just how red Fuuta had gotten, his mouth agape, seemingly choosing whether to berate Mikoto or beg him to be filled again.
"Fuck... just-!" was all he heard instead. Maybe not even directed to him.
Mikoto then brought one of his hands to cover his mouth. "It'd be embarrassing if someone hears, yeah?"
Fuuta's eyebrows furrowed slightly at the action, though it looked like he wasn't in the mood to disobey. Good.
He easily pushed past the soft flesh, purposefully quickening his thrusts as Fuuta's moans continued to come out in broken choruses, a lot harder to control.
"Mikoto... hot... it's-... hottt....!"
"Want me to stop, then?"
Fuuta huffed. "Don't... want that..."
"Then should I keep hitting here?"
"... Please..." He begged profusely as he rubbed at his clit, seeing white.
"You're gonna let him do that?" he asked.
Mikoto chuckled to himself. "Well, he's been good, after all.”
— Who is he talking to? An extremely delirious Fuuta wondered, before pressure built up again in his abdomen, the thought lost amidst the sensation of another orgasm rolling over him.
His cum coated Mikoto's dick, effectively making his thrusts easier to manage, while his voice was harder to silence—his breath hot against Mikoto's hand.
"Fuu.. ta- I'm.. close.." he warned, preparing to slow down.
Fuuta, instead of understanding, began to move his hips forward in unison with Mikoto, apparently fully intending on being troublesome. Then, his legs wrap around Mikoto's waist—trapping him inside, a wordless demand.
Mikoto tensed, and he removed his hand from Fuuta's mouth. He grabbed his arm, not harshly, squeezing as if to hesitantly ask "Are you sure?" in place of just panicking like his brain is telling him to. All of his friend(?) (boyfriend?)'s sounds now filled his ears with perfect clarity, and he thought about whether he regretted covering them up earlier, but he supposes it wouldn't matter. He'd just have to hear Fuuta completely let himself go once he takes him somewhere nice with soundproof walls. He's sure someone nearby could just hear the shitty bed creaking while they're in the dorms... A hotel? Could be. His parents' house? Definitely not! Though... would he meet his family? Shit, that was a nice thought. He could almost hear his little sister laughing to herself going, "So you must be the boyfriend!" in a way that's entirely cliché while holding Fuuta's hands. He'd like to show him off, hold his hands in public (but only if he's cool with it!), kiss him so many more times—anything to assure him that it won't end after this; that he'll see Fuuta this way again!
"M-Mikotoo!!"
What left him was nothing less than a scream. Sperm released deep inside his unprotected womb, his walls tightening around his cock like a vice before he came as well not too long after. Mikoto doesn't immediately pull out. He stayed there, in his heat, bringing Fuuta close while they both laid to catch their breath. Their bodies pressed together, in reality, made them warmer, but somehow the position still manages to feel comfortable.
Although they look at each other and simultaneously both think, "Wow. This guy looks pathetic." in some way, they kiss. Light and sweet.
"We need to work on that." Mikoto chuckled as he pulled out.
"What are you saying?! Am I that bad???"
"Well, your teeth're..."
"Was that you trying to be all responsible earlier? I think you lost all semblance of logic once you went in without a condom."
"Shut up! Let me have this!"
"Did you just tell me to shut up??"
"No! I'm... sorry. My headmate. Talking to me, ruining the moment!! Heheh..."
"What's he saying?"
"Uhm?? Well-" he cleared his throat. "He's saying I'm an idiot for probably knocking you up."
Fuuta hummed. "Eh. He's right."
He would have to talk to him about this if they actually go to a nice hotel with Fuuta or whatever.
“Alright, next thing we should do is…” the redhead got up, suddenly instilling in Mikoto a deep fear for his own balls. “Nothing. Because I’m tired. Night.”
He’s out like a light, seeking comfort beside his head as his arms remain wrapped around the other in a more than slightly sweaty embrace. Whatever, Mikoto thought. He was pretty sure he would be killed if he moved anyway, so he decided to doze off as well. Thankfully, without a certain man who looked like him whose name had four letters, started with J, and ended with N antagonizing him in his head. This moment—the result of sucking at video games, exceeded anything he could ever imagine.