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Not two weeks after her rotten left arm was replaced with a technological masterpiece crafted by Hajime Hinata’s hands, Nagito defiled it.
He shuddered under his own touch, smooth metal fingertips gliding down his bare torso. He was in his cottage, in the real world this time, curtains drawn and the towel that had been wrapped around his hips discarded.
His hair was a ruffled mess, having been also towel dried, though carefully, as to not lose more of the delicate strands than necessary.
Nagito had accidentally coaxed himself into arousal through wandering thoughts of a certain someone, and decided it would benefit him to deal with the consequences. After all, he still thought of his new hand as something belonging to Hajime.
And it frustrated him.
Hajime Hinata, the worthless reserve course student, the radiant savior, the talentless and the talented and the ultimate, immeasurable font of hope that sprung from the stygian abyss of true despair. He is a contradiction in every way, and yet he shines so bright as he heralds his new future.
He was by Nagito’s side when he opened his eyes for the first time after the simulation, peering down at him with a welcoming, reassuring smile and helping him to sit up in his pod. It was that small moment that truly opened Nagito’s eyes to what Hajime really was.
Hope.
The ultimate hope that he had been searching for, that he himself had aspired to become, it was Hajime all along.
He had caught glimpses of it in the simulation, flickers and sparks that seemed to jump off of Hajime’s sun-kissed skin like electricity, igniting the air around him with beauteous light.
Now, Nagito was around Hajime so much he almost couldn’t stand it. It was dizzying, being so close to him, able to reach out and touch him.
And, god, how he had fantasized about doing so.
From experiences that he held close to his heart, Nagito knew that Hajime was always radiating warmth, that his hands were calloused in places, and that his shirt hid a surprising amount of muscle. Knowing these things only tempted him more, fueled his fantasies.
Lifting his legs, Nagito slid the prosthesis down, curling around a cheek to nudge the blunt fingers against his hole. He had very little feeling in them, which Hajime insisted he would soon be around to improving, and so, at the moment, it felt like someone else’s touch.
With a quiet exhale, Nagito brought his right hand to give his shaft a few strokes, shuddering bodily when he allowed his thumbnail to just barely graze the head.
He was getting impatient, cock twitching and hips threatening to buck, so he drew his right hand away to reach towards the lubricant he had gotten out in preparation.
Nagito easily popped the cap and brought it down alongside the left hand, drizzling a generous amount over his entrance and the metal fingers. After he felt there was enough, he was quick to close the bottle and cast it aside, already slowly pressing a finger inside.
It was odd, a new sensation, and one he was eager to explore. It felt firm, cold at first and then quickly warmed by his body heat.
As he carefully curled the finger ever so slightly, he was grateful for the external layer that kept the joints from pinching him.
Swallowing, Nagito slowly added a second finger, stretching himself more thoroughly, before adding a third. It burned a little, progressing so fast, a bite in the feeling he shouldn’t have found as pleasurable as he did.
When he crooked the three into where he knew his prostate to be, the jolt of pleasure he felt took him by surprise, coiling up his spine and choking his thoughts.
The fingers of the prosthesis were firmer than his own, despite how bony they are, and he had used the same amount of pressure that he had used with his own fingers. It bordered on pain even, as he began to rock down onto that hand, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.
Nagito wrapped his free hand around his weeping cock, breath hitching from a gentle squeeze and a thumb pressing to the bottom of the head.
Once he fell into a rhythm, he allowed his mind to wander, immediately latching on to the thought of Hajime, whose handiwork he was soiling.
It was easy to let himself fall into fantasy, shutting out the reality and drowning himself in the peace of fiction.
Hajime, leaning over him, strong body settled between his legs.
His fingertips clawing at Nagito’s hips, thighs, teeth and tongue eager at his neck and shoulders while his thick cock thrusted into him with abandon.
Groans, huffs, quiet words and expletives, Nagito had heard Hajime’s voice so often that he could imagine the erotic sounds clearly.
The thought of Hajime uttering his name like a prayer sent Nagito into a gentle spasm, a twitch of muscles followed by a gush of precome over his fingers, adding to the slick of lubricant.
He whined, a high, quiet moan, and his rhythm became offset and uneven as he neared his climax.
“Hinata-kun,” he allowed himself to gasp, the taste of the words on his tongue sweetening the sensations of elsewhere, “Hinata-kun, H-hh—“
Nagito was quickly losing his ability of complex thought, this time due to overwhelming pleasure rather than illness, and he lost any semblance of restraint he tricked himself into believing he had as he finally came.
“H-Hajime!” He cried out, inhibition broken as his voice while cum painted his stomach in spurts, “Hha- Hajim— Mmm…”
A minute or so later, he didn’t know how long, he came to clarity, the blurry present snapping into focus from where it had drifted in his burst of ecstasy. Nagito took a minute to regain his breath, and then sighed. Carefully, he pulled the metal fingers from himself before he dared to reach for the tissues on the nightstand with his own.
He cleaned up as well as he could, starting with his hand and prosthesis, before wiping down his torso and between his legs to rid his body of cum and sweat and slick.
He felt that another shower would do him much good, but he couldn’t be bothered to drag his spent body from the bed. He was fortunate enough that nothing had landed on the sheets, and so he settled for making himself comfortable for the night.
Tomorrow, he would have to face Hajime knowing what he had done. He soon fell asleep with a smile on his face.