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Hinata doesn’t particularly enjoy hospitals.
They’re too cold, too clinical, and there’s something about the oppressive smell of antiseptics that burns his nose and makes him feel sick to his stomach. Nothing in a hospital is comfortable, not even the chairs or the beds. And as far as the hospital on Jabberwock Island goes, Hinata thinks it might rank as one of the worst he’s ever stepped foot in. The building feels like it’s the only area on the island that gets little to no sunlight, relying on obnoxious fluorescents to brighten the place. The walls and floors are drab and gray, the place is messy like it's been rummaged through and abandoned, and absolutely nothing about it is helping Hinata’s mood.
So why is he here? Why does he keep coming back? Boredom is definitely part of it, as everyone except for Kuzuryuu and Tsumiki are hiding away from the quarantine zone, too afraid to catch whatever freakish disease Monokuma released onto the island. Their fears are completely rational and understandable. Hinata, however, is willingly placing himself directly in harm’s way, wandering around the hospital being of no help to anyone. If it wasn’t for Monokuma’s stupid rule about the amount of people allowed to stay in the building overnight, Hinata isn’t too sure he would even be returning to his cottage to sleep.
It’s because he cares about his friends, Hinata thinks to himself as he shuffles down the same hallway he’s been frequenting for the past day and a half. He cares about his sick friends, that’s why he’s been orbiting around the hospital in a daze. Although Hinata has to admit, staying to keep the sick company really isn’t providing him with any sort of productive or brain-stimulating activity.
He’s listened to Owari sob and weep about every topic under the sun at this point, Mioda is impossible to hold a coherent conversation with, and Tsumiki is extremely busy, which makes her even more high-strung and difficult to talk to. Kuzuryuu seems to be on edge, too, and he keeps disappearing for hours at a time. Hinata takes that as him wanting his alone time, so he opts not to go looking for him.
Hinata glances up from the floor when he realizes he’s almost made his way down the entire length of the hallway. The sign on the door closest to him shows that it’s Komaeda’s room, and Hinata stops and wrinkles his nose in a grimace.
I care about my sick friends , Hinata repeats in his head, staring down the offending door. Is Komaeda his friend? Hinata has no idea. He doesn’t have the slightest clue how to classify his relationship with the guy. When he thinks about everyone else on the island, he can identify at least one quality from each of them that he likes. Something that makes them look appealing as a friend. But there’s nothing about Komaeda that Hinata likes.
Of course, it’s more complicated than just that, though. As much as Hinata hates it, there’s something about Komaeda that keeps him coming back. He’s unpredictable, provocative, and talking with him always has Hinata leaving conversations feeling like he’s just been pulled apart and put back together again. Hinata doesn’t like him, but he’s painfully aware of his sick fascination with Komaeda, and he’s out of his mind annoyed with himself that he’s peeked into Komaeda’s room three times since this morning.
He thinks it has to do with the absurdity of it all, the way he can never guess what Komaeda is going to do or say next. The things Komaeda tells him are outrageous, constantly giving off the impression that he’s trying to convince Hinata to do something, and he’s never sure exactly what that something is. It varies from conversation to conversation. Sometimes he’s being encouraged to humor the idea of causing Komaeda’s demise, and sometimes Hinata feels like Komaeda’s just trying to push his buttons for fun.
And other times, his words are laced with heavy amounts of flirtation. As much as Hinata doesn’t want to acknowledge it, he knows he’d be a huge idiot if he didn’t notice the certain tone Komaeda takes on with him most of the time, or the palpable tension resulting from any interaction they have with each other.
He would also be a total moron if he acted like the times they’d fucked around in private never happened. But what goes on in the comfort of his or Komaeda’s cottages, or in the library, or that one time in that cramped storage closet-- stays in those places. Never mind that Komaeda is way too skilled with his mouth for his own good, or that he knows just how to rile Hinata up in a way no other pornographic content he’s ever seen could accomplish.
But there’s nothing about Komaeda that Hinata likes. There just isn’t.
He balls up his fists and squeezes them hard, deciding it would probably be in his best interest to ditch Komaeda’s room and go sit with Mioda for a bit. Whatever they’ll end up talking about will most likely be mind-numbing and confusing, but Hinata knows she’s been rather restless today and he feels bad for her.
Before he can successfully banish Komaeda from his mind, however, Hinata hears a loud, metallic clanging sound coming from his room. The jarring noise is followed by what sounds like some smaller objects clattering to the floor, all topping off with an ear-piercing shriek of surprise.
It’s definitely Tsumiki, and she has definitely just dropped something.
Hinata sighs with his whole body, approaching the door and swinging it open. Unsurprisingly, he finds Tsumiki on the ground in a rather compromising position, the culprit of the initial sound looking to be the metal tray laying a few feet away from her. Hinata squints his eyes, as if doing so will make him less likely to see up Tsumiki’s skirt, and tries to identify the smaller medical supplies scattered on the floor. It’s no use, though. He has absolutely no idea what any of them are.
“Are you okay?” he asks, cautiously approaching Tsumiki and offering out a hand to help her up.
“Y-yes! I’m alright!” she splutters, grabbing hold of Hinata’s outstretched hand and scrambling to her feet. Hinata watches her stare down at the mess and frown, and he frowns along with her. She looks horrible, if Hinata is being honest, even more frazzled than she was the last time he ran into her a few hours ago.
“You look exhausted,” he says, crouching down to help her pick up everything she dropped. Tsumiki simply stands there, empty tray in her hands, looking as though she were about to cry. “I thought I told you this morning not to overexert yourself,” Hinata continues, as gently as possible.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Tsumiki whines, and she holds out the tray for Hinata to dump the recovered contents onto.
“Don’t be sorry,” Hinata rubs the back of his neck, eyeing the wire running across the floor from wall to wall. It doesn’t take his two-time murder solving credentials to figure out that the wire was probably responsible for Tsumiki’s fall. “Hey, I’m serious about this,” he says, looking back up at her. “Go take a nap. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Tsumiki’s frown deepens, and she glances to her left at Komaeda’s bed. “But Komaeda, he’s--”
“I’ll watch him,” Hinata interrupts before he can think about what he’s getting himself into. “I’ll stay here and make sure he’s fine.”
Tsumiki says nothing, chewing on her lip as if she’s considering the offer. Hinata recalls how vehemently she denied going to sleep the last time he told her to, but he’d be very surprised if she were to turn him down in the state she’s in now.
“I promise if anything weird happens, I’ll be screaming all the way down the hallway for you,” Hinata assures her.
“Okay...” Tsumiki gives in much easier than Hinata expected, although she still sounds a bit apprehensive. “I’ll be in the on-call room,” she says, shoulders sagging in what Hinata hopes is relief. “I’ll try not to be too long... Please don’t be afraid to wake me up whenever you need to!” She smiles weakly, and Hinata nods in agreement.
He moves out of the way so Tsumiki can get past him and heads towards the chair on the other side of Komaeda’s bed. Just as he’s about to sit down, Hinata hears another clang and a short “Eep!” from behind him. He turns around, finding Tsumiki (thankfully) still on her feet, although a bit wobbly. She shoots the wire on the floor a look of pure despair, then glances up at Hinata, apologizing one last time before she shakily makes her way out of the room.
When the door shuts behind her, Hinata lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He collapses in the chair, the reality of his current situation finally dawning on him. Great job, he thinks to himself. You are now stuck here with an unconscious Komaeda for at least a few hours until Tsumiki wakes up.
Speaking of Komaeda, Hinata glances towards the bed a foot away from him. He hasn’t been able to get a good look at him until now, and-- jeez. He thought Tsumiki looked rough.
Komaeda is lights-out on the bed, his sheets pulled up to his chin and neatly tucked into the sides of the bed frame. It’s as if he hasn’t moved in hours. His face is deathly pale but simultaneously sweaty, and Hinata can hear his breaths coming in and out as weak puffs and wheezes. Tsumiki wasn’t kidding when she said he was in worse condition than yesterday.
Hinata almost feels bad for the guy. He remembers the other morning, watching Komaeda stumble around the hotel’s restaurant with his eyes practically glazed over, spouting absolute nonsense that seemed appalling even for his standards. At this point, he looks like he’s on the verge of death. Hinata doesn’t know how he feels about that, and he doesn’t really want to think about it any longer.
He leans back in his stiff, uncomfortable chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Perhaps he will use this time to relax, he thinks, to space out and let his mind wander to the soothing sounds of Komaeda’s rattling, asthmatic breathing.
A few minutes pass by. Hinata is miserable.
Letting his “mind wander” was a bad idea, since apparently all his mind wants to do is think about how much everything sucks. And Komaeda, for some reason. Because apparently Hinata is fucked in the head enough that the only thing that entertains him anymore is interacting with Komaeda. So now that Komaeda is laid out to die of Monokuma-plague in this dingy hospital bed, Hinata is feeling bored, and like shit.
He leans his head against the wall, contemplating slamming it a few times out of sheer exasperation. Staring at Komaeda out of the corner of his eye, though, he catches one of his limbs move. It’s fast, but Hinata swears he saw something twitch underneath the tightly pulled blankets. He blinks, waiting.
Again, a little stronger this time, Hinata watches what he thinks is Komaeda’s right arm twitch a few times. He leans forward in his chair, unsure if this is normal or if Komaeda is going through something life threatening right in front of him. Komaeda’s other limbs start to do the same thing, and Hinata swears he can see his eyeballs moving around underneath his eyelids.
Hinata has never watched a human being die, nor does he ever intend to. Sure, he’s seen his fair share of dead bodies lately, but as long as he’s able to, he’d prefer to spare himself from watching the process from start to finish. He contemplates getting up and waking Tsumiki, turning to stare at the door while he debates the pros and cons of each situation. If Komaeda died, whose fault would it be? Tsumiki’s, for not taking care of him well enough? Or maybe his fault, for neglecting to tell Tsumiki anything? Technically, it would be Monokuma’s fault for infecting him, although he’s sure the asshole wouldn’t agree. He doesn’t want to wake up poor Tsumiki for a false alarm, though--
“Hinata-kun..?”
Hinata tears his eyes away from the door at the sound of his name, making eye contact with a very alive Komaeda.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Hinata sighs. Komaeda still has that glazed over, delirious look in his eyes, like there’s something cloudy swirling around in front of his pupils. His voice sounds raspy and strained, which makes sense considering he hasn’t used it in over twenty-four hours.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, and Hinata is pretty sure he’s never heard someone sound so potently ill. “You’re the last person I wanted to see.”
Hinata feels something inside him twitch at the insult, but takes a deep breath to remind himself exactly what disease Komaeda is afflicted with. From what Tsumiki told him, he should be interpreting everything Komaeda says as a lie, so that means Komaeda is... happy to see him. For some reason.
“Tsumiki is taking a well-deserved nap,” Hinata explains, watching Komaeda swallow a few times with his undoubtedly dry as hell throat. “I’m keeping an eye on you so you don’t become the next trial case.”
Komaeda raises an eyebrow at that, weakly pulling himself up onto his elbows. “You know, right now would be the absolute worst time for you to kill me,” A cough pushes its way out from his chest, but he talks through it anyways. “You would be caught in an instant.”
Hinata translates the words, shaking his head at the stupidity. “You’re wrong,” he replies. “Everyone knows I’m here, I’d be the number one suspect. And I wasn’t even considering doing that in the first place, so knock it off.”
Komaeda is about to say something back before his body becomes wracked with violent convulsions. He turns to the side, coughs wetly into his arm a few times, and grimaces. Hinata eyes him with disgust.
“You look like shit,” he throws it out there, hoping he was sitting outside of the contagion zone for that last cough.
“No, you do. I feel amazing,” Komaeda replies instantly, and Hinata physically recoils when he realizes what Komaeda actually meant. “Now get out of here,” he continues, staring Hinata in the eyes so intensely that he feels like there are bugs crawling all over him. “Get out before I start screaming for help.”
Hinata rolls his eyes. Unsurprisingly, Komaeda is quickly proving to be even worse in conversation than Owari and Mioda combined. He stands up, already at his wits end.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll leave. I’m gonna go get Tsumiki now. I’ll tell her you’re awake and acting insufferable.”
Hinata is about to turn on his heel and walk out when he hears Komaeda’s sheets rustle and feels a hand clamp around his wrist. His palm is cold and clammy, and Hinata cringes at the sensation. He stops and looks down at Komaeda, trying to appear as stone-faced and unaffected as possible.
“Wait--” Komaeda wheezes, and Hinata can see there’s some color returning to his face just from putting in the effort to sit up. “I said to get out,” he says, a little more urgently this time.
“Yep, that’s what I’m doing,” Hinata replies, pulling against Komaeda’s grip. “Now let go, you’re still contagious.”
Komaeda doesn’t let go. Instead, he squeezes Hinata’s wrist insistently. Hinata takes a deep breath, in and out. Whatever. Looking past his own annoyance, he doesn’t actually think it’s worth it to wake Tsumiki up. If Komaeda is in good enough condition to be pestering Hinata like he is, he doesn’t see any need for immediate medical attention. Besides, it’s not like he has anything better to do than let Komaeda pick his brain for a bit. He lets his body go slack in defeat.
As Hinata seats himself back down in his chair, Komaeda follows his movements, leaning forwards so he’s upright in bed. His grip is still strong on Hinata’s wrist. He keeps his eyes, as unfocused and off-putting as they are, directly on Hinata. Hinata shifts uncomfortably.
“What?” he says, less like a question and more like a confrontation.
“It’s just-- I’ve been having the most horrible dreams!” Komaeda complains, but his tone is strange, like he’s trying to taunt Hinata instead of express concern. It’s throwing him off.
Hinata’s brain scrambles to translate the lie into something he can understand, but the statement is too vague. He sits there, brows knit together in quizzical disgust, watching Komaeda’s bare chest through the gap in his hospital robe as it heaves in a desperate attempt to collect enough air.
“Okay,” he finally says, very intelligently.
“They were awful dreams, Hinata-kun, they made me sick to my stomach!”
Hinata swallows. So Komaeda was having good dreams? That’s fine, he guesses, whatever. Power to him.
“And you were in them,” Komaeda continues, licking his lips. “You were there and you were doing terrible things to me...”
“Wait, terrible-- huh?” Hinata cuts him off. Under any other circumstances, he’d assume Komaeda was simply having weird, fever-induced nightmares. But these aren’t normal circumstances, and Hinata struggles to piece together the opposites in a way that makes any shred of sense to him. His palms are sweating. Komaeda’s fingers feel like fire against his wrist.
“I’m telling you, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda says slowly. “I’ve never had dreams as bad as these.”
Hinata’s stomach churns, although he’s not quite sure if it’s in a particularly bad way. Maybe it’s the tone Komaeda’s taking with him. It’s the same one he uses when it feels like Hinata’s being smooth-talked into doing something, the one that sends shivers down his spine and leaves him feeling vaguely dirty and sick after the fact. He’s about to open his mouth and tell Komaeda that he has no idea what he’s getting at, that he should just go back to sleep, when all of a sudden Komaeda is tugging Hinata’s hand towards himself and placing it directly on his--
“Oh,” Hinata breathes. So that’s what he meant by “horrible dreams”.
If there were sirens installed in Hinata’s head, they would be going off at an alarming volume. Komaeda wants to play this game, now of all times. He can think of a million and one reasons why doing anything remotely like this would be a terrible idea, but Hinata can’t seem to spit out a coherent sentence with his hand sitting right on top of Komaeda’s fucking boner.
Why? Why now? He knows Komaeda has some sort of affliction with having sex in dangerous situations, but this is kind of over the top. Tsumiki could wake up at any second, Kuzuryuu could appear out of nowhere, hell, Komaeda is delusionally feverish! He’s literally sick in the head at the moment! Is it ethically okay at all to be engaging with a hospital patient whose brain is semi-permanently stuck in opposite day mode?
Komaeda finally lets go of Hinata’s wrist, as if presenting him with an ultimatum. Hinata stares at his hand, almost surprised Komaeda’s fingers haven’t left burn marks on his skin with how high his temperature seems to be running. His mouth is way too fucking dry.
Komaeda looks up at him. “If you’re worried about it,” he starts, voice wavering. “I really, really don’t want you to.”
Hinata shuts his eyes hard enough to see stars. He can feel the blood rushing to his groin before Komaeda can even finish his sentence. He’s made more than a few questionable decisions involving Komaeda at this point. He thinks this one might rank pretty high up there. Completely against his better judgement, he pushes his palm down, hard.
Komaeda makes a sound eerily similar to a deflating balloon, and Hinata glances up at his face just in time to see him crack a sick, satisfied smile. He rolls his hips up immediately to meet Hinata’s pressure. Hinata cringes at the sensation of the scratchy bedsheets, though, which are rubbing against his skin in a really unpleasant way.
“This is so messed up,” he mutters, but he stands to rip the sheets out from their previously neat arrangements, anyways.
“Not really,” Komaeda replies, out of breath. Hinata almost doesn’t catch the lie.
Komaeda untangles his legs from the blankets, his hospital robe loosening significantly during the commotion. He’s flushed and sweaty from his face down to his collarbones, and when Hinata drops his gaze lower he quickly realizes the only thing Komaeda’s wearing under the robe is a pair of very strained boxers. He rolls onto his side, facing Hinata, then sets his own shaky hand over the zipper of Hinata’s jeans. He rubs at him over the fabric, up and down, in an attempt to coax his already half-hard cock to full arousal.
Hinata braces himself against the bed’s safety rails, nervously glancing over at the door. He can’t hear any sounds coming from the hallway, at least not over Komaeda’s freaky, heavy breathing. Breathing of which should absolutely be worrying and an instant boner killer, but for some reason, Hinata isn’t thinking like a rational human today.
Suddenly, the friction on his dick ceases, but it’s quickly replaced with the warm, damp feeling of Komaeda mouthing at him through his pants. Hinata snaps back to full attention.
“K-Komaeda,” he stammers, gripping the metal bar like he’s trying to kill it. “Stop, hold on--”
Komaeda pulls back, eyes wide and glassy.
“Not with your mouth,” Hinata grimaces. “You’re contagious... I don’t... With your hand, instead.”
Komaeda blinks. Almost begrudgingly, it seems, he begins to unbutton Hinata’s pants, tugging down the zipper at a treacherously slow pace. He’s nearly fully hard now, and when Komaeda pulls his dick out of his boxers and starts lazily jerking him off with one hand, Hinata knows he’s in too deep this time. He’s let Komaeda play him like a gullible moron again, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Tsumiki won’t wake up, Komaeda’s stupid luck won’t let that happen. He’s going to get off and it’s going to be mind-blowingly sexy and afterwards he can forget about it and pretend he’s not banging Komaeda until the next time something like this happens--
Komaeda’s fist passes over the tip of Hinata’s cock with a particularly graphic squelch, and Hinata groans under his breath. Maybe he should let Komaeda suck him off, there’s probably no way he can get infected through dick to mouth contact, right? He’s giving Monokuma way too much credit, thinking of the disease like there’s any chance it behaves like a normal sickness. He bites down on the inside of his cheek as hard as he can muster, imagining the feeling of Komaeda drooling all over him, Komaeda taking him so far deep into his throat that he can’t breathe. It probably wouldn’t be too hard to get him choking on it when he’s like this, already short of breath to begin with. Hinata shudders.
All of a sudden, Komaeda wheezes shortly in what Hinata thinks is supposed to be a laugh. “You wouldn’t fuck me,” he challenges, and Hinata’s knees go weak. Has he always been this bold? Is it just the fever talking? “Not like this, you wouldn’t.”
Would he, though? Hinata rolls the idea around in his head, the same head that he’s aware by now is notoriously poor at discerning right from wrong. He’d be a big fat liar if he pretended Komaeda’s offer didn’t sound extremely appealing at the moment.
“Would I?” he says out loud. He can feel Komaeda’s eyes burning into him from his position down on the bed. Hinata really hopes he isn’t making an embarrassing face.
“I’d hate it if you did,” Komaeda taunts. “I’d scream and yell for you to get away from me and never touch me again.” He squeezes the base of Hinata’s cock as he finishes his sentence, and Hinata’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head for a second. He seriously feels like he’s about to pass out.
If only there were lube and condoms nearby, then maybe he could--
A terrible idea births itself in Hinata’s brain. He remembers the day he spent exploring the hospital with Kuzuryuu, remembers spotting a stash of lube and condoms on one of the shelves in the room next door to the on-call room. He doesn’t really want to remember how flat his joke about the offending items fell in front of Kuzuryuu, but that’s besides the point. If he were to make himself look at least somewhat decent, then not only would he be able to snag the stuff, but he could also check to see if Tsumiki was still asleep.
He gets Komaeda’s attention quickly enough, hurriedly tucking himself back into his pants as he explains his plan. If Komaeda thinks it’s stupid, he doesn’t say anything.
Hinata leaves the room, painfully aware of how hard he is now that he’s trapped in his pants again. He’s got nothing to hide it with, either, which makes him feel all the more moronic. Whatever, he knows it’s unrealistic that he’ll run into anyone in the hallway. Even if Mioda or Owari were to see him, he’s pretty sure they either wouldn’t notice or would completely forget once they recovered from their own illnesses.
Peeking into the on-call room, Hinata finds Tsumiki fast asleep on the bed. She doesn’t look like she’ll be up anytime soon. Hopes high and running on adrenaline, he slips into the room next door, rummaging through the shelves for his contraband. He grabs a condom and a packet of lube, then leaves as fast as he can. He’s jittery, half expecting Komaeda to be passed out under his untouched blankets when he gets back, as if this was all some sort of fucked up dream dragged out from the depths of Hinata’s depraved, perverse brain.
Opening the door to Komaeda’s room, though, Hinata is met with the exact opposite. Komaeda has ditched his robe entirely, and he’s currently busy removing his boxers, which are pushed halfway down his skinny thighs. Hinata stalls in the doorway.
“Hinata-kun!” Komaeda exclaims, then clears his throat like there’s a pound of gravel stuck inside of it. “How quick and efficient!”
Hinata decides to ignore the sarcasm. He says nothing, stalking over to the bed and pulling himself up onto it noisily. Komaeda shifts backwards to make more room for him, bringing his thighs up to his chest.
While Hinata fumbles to empty his pockets, Komaeda grabs him by the tie and yanks him down to his level. Hinata feels their noses brush, but Komaeda doesn’t lean in any further. Instead, he looks Hinata straight in the eyes, almost longingly. For half a second, his gaze flickers down to Hinata’s lips.
“I think if I kissed you right now, I’d vomit,” Komaeda says.
Hinata’s cock throbs in his pants. He swallows, then breaks the eye contact, pushing Komaeda’s hand away and leaning back on his haunches again.
“Yeah, well you’re sick,” Hinata grumbles in reply, loosening his tie a bit. It’s getting fucking hot in here.
Once he’s comfortable, he reaches down to his jeans, finally relieving some of the pressure on his dick. He pulls his pants and boxers down just enough so they’re not in the way, then grabs his length and pumps it a few times to ready it. Komaeda watches him hungrily the entire time. It’s a wonder he’s not fucking frothing at the mouth.
“Turn over,” Hinata commands, embarrassed.
“Ah, like a dog?” Komaeda counters, but he complies nonetheless, rolling himself onto his stomach and resting his head against the pillow so he can still look behind him at Hinata.
Hinata struggles with the condom’s wrapper, chucking it to the side when he finally gets it open. It’d honestly be hotter to just do it raw, but Hinata doesn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if Tsumiki were to find any left behind evidence during Komaeda’s next checkup.
After eventually succeeding at opening the lube, Hinata slicks himself up, grabbing Komaeda by the hips and lifting him until he’s fully exposed, knees resting on either side of Hinata’s. It’s been a few days since they’ve been able to do this, so Hinata hopes Komaeda won’t mind the tight squeeze.
“I-I’m doing it now,” Hinata announces stupidly, brain too fogged up to think of anything intelligent. He wonders for a moment if he’s got this disease too, and instead of making him a liar or a crybaby, it’s just made him incredibly fucking horny.
“Don’t!” Komaeda yells the second Hinata presses the tip of his dick to his hole. The shout makes Hinata feel like he’s been electrocuted, and he almost pulls back and abandons ship altogether. His heart hammers in his chest. Komaeda’s lying. It’s fine. Insanely weird, but fine.
“Did you hear me?” Komaeda continues. “I said stop!”
“Oh my god,” Hinata prods at Komaeda’s hole again, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise as he attempts to push himself inside. “Shut up, please just shut up--”
Komaeda’s legs go limp once Hinata’s cock finally breaches his ass. He whines low in his throat, and Hinata can’t help but curse under his breath at the feeling, too. It’s warm, it’s wet, and god, it’s tight. His eyes flutter closed as he slides another inch in, then pulls out a bit, only to push in a little further on his next thrust.
“Oh, it’s awful , Hinata-kun,” Komaeda says over his shoulder, grasping at the mattress for any kind of support. “You really are the worst, get it out of me right now--”
Hinata’s hips meet Komaeda’s with a smack, and Komaeda keens at the brutal pace, burying his face in the pillow to muffle his cries. Hinata has to stifle his own sounds with the back of his hand. It’s amazing, the way Komaeda’s ass is practically sucking him in. A blowjob would have been nothing compared to this.
“I hate it, I hate it,” Komaeda babbles, interrupting Hinata’s train of thought. “It feels horrible, I’ve never felt so bad in my life, you have to stop, you have to!”
As endearing as Komaeda’s comments are, Hinata only sees trouble coming from them if he gets any louder. He growls in irritation, hunching over Komaeda so he can reach the back of his head. None too kindly, he grabs him by the hair and turns him so he’s back to being facedown in the pillows, then holds him there.
Komaeda’s whole body stiffens and shivers at the action, and Hinata feels his ass tighten around his cock for a moment in the best way possible. It’s probably for the better, Hinata thinks to himself as he pounds into Komaeda even harder than before. Like this, he’ll definitely be less likely to catch whatever nasty disease Komaeda has.
Now, all Hinata can hear from Komaeda is muffled sounds of what he thinks are appreciation. It spurs him on way more than any of his cries of protest did, which is doing wonders for his conscience. He’s getting close to cumming, honestly. The looming fear of someone walking in quickly converts itself into fuel for the fire as it appears in Hinata’s head, and he’s so hard he feels like he’s about to blow up and pass away.
After a few seconds, he can feel Komaeda start to fight back against his grip on his head, but Hinata doesn’t let up. Eventually, one of Komaeda’s hands releases from the mattress cover and shoots up to Hinata’s wrist, grabbing frantically at his arm in a desperate attempt to get him to let go.
At that moment, though, Hinata falls over the edge. He drives his cock as deep into Komaeda as he possibly can, tightening his hold on Komaeda’s hair even more. He cums so hard he goes light-headed, every muscle in his body contracting and not letting up for a good ten seconds, all the while ignoring Komaeda struggling underneath him. Maybe he’s trying to say things, but Hinata can’t hear them. His ears are ringing.
Once Hinata finally slips his hand out of Komaeda’s hair, he immediately turns to the side for a staggering, uneasy breath of air. He’s wheezing like crazy, and Hinata might feel worried if he hadn’t just had one of the best orgasms of his life. When he pulls out, Komaeda collapses onto the bed, landing on his side to catch his breath. He wipes the drool from the corner of his mouth with one hand, and Hinata notices with a start that he’s definitely popped a blood vessel in one of his eyes.
As quickly as the horny comes, it vanishes. Reality begins to set in.
Holy shit, Hinata thinks. I just fucked Komaeda while he yelled at me to stop, which really meant to keep going, I guess, but he’s sick, and we could have gotten walked in on, and what the hell did I just fucking do, I almost killed him just now, nearly suffocated him, did he even cum--
Hinata scans the bed below him frantically, heart dropping into his stomach when he sees the cum splattered on the mattress directly below where Komaeda was bent over.
Sick fuck probably got off on almost being murdered. Hinata frowns sourly.
“You did a miserable job,” Komaeda rasps, and Hinata’s eye twitches. “Truly one of the worst experiences of my life. I don’t think you’ll ever please another human being again if you keep that up!”
Despite Komaeda’s cheery tone and smile, and the fact that Hinata is entirely aware that Komaeda means the opposite of what he’s saying, he still feels insanely fed up and exhausted.
He’s had enough Komaeda to last him his whole life. Never again, he decides, zipping his pants back up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
It’s not like he even likes Komaeda.