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Denki is at the sink doing dishes before Hitoshi is done eating. Hitoshi admires his boyfriend from the table. Denki is in the littlest shorts, barely visible under a massive t-shirt. He spins around and skips over to clear Hitoshi’s plate, flashing a too-sweet smile that Hitoshi swears will give him cavities.
Hitoshi walks over to Denki, who is diligently scrubbing at the plate, and slips his hand up under the t-shirt so that his hand rests on the skin of Denki’s lower back. He leans in, kissing up Denki’s neck to his ear. Denki gasps softly and Hitoshi smirks as his lips brush Denki’s ear.
“What’s this, Denks?”
Denki turns his head slightly, startled, his feigned innocence wavering precariously on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about–”
“Oh, c’mon baby, I know you and you only do the dishes when you’re horny.”
Denki’s eyes widen and Hitoshi flashes him a cheshire smile. He wasn’t wrong. It’s a pattern, whether Denki realizes it or not.
“N–No! Hanta’s not here so I know no one is gonna do–”
Hitoshi snakes his other hand around the front of Denki’s waist and turns his boyfriend to fully face him. Denki drops the dishes he’s holding and puts sudsy hands up to Hitoshi’s chest. Hitoshi pulls Denki’s waist in forcefully, fingers digging into Denki’s skin, and kisses his way along Denki’s neck. He sucks a hickey just under his jawline and Denki lets out a whine–a sound that has Hitoshi’s dick jumping and heart racing to get more of.
“What do you want, kitten?” He kisses gently at Denki’s earlobe and Denki whines again, leaning in to kiss the purple hair at Hitoshi’s temple. He doesn’t give Denki a chance to answer though, before scooping him up under each thigh. “C’mere.”
Hitoshi carries Denki over to the couch and sits so that Denki is straddling him–bare, muscular legs against his thighs. Hitoshi wants to run his hands and mouth along them, biting and sucking a constellation of purple, possessive marks into the pale skin.
Later. He can do that later.
For now, he pulls Denki’s head to his. Denki’s soft lips against Hitoshi’s own. As Denki slips his tongue into his mouth, Hitoshi can taste the wine they had with dinner and he feels as if he could get drunk off that feeling alone.
Denki unintentionally grinds his hips against Hitoshi and Hitoshi’s cock strains against his jeans. Denki must have felt it because it’s him, this time, with the knowing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth and a hunger in the gold of his eyes. It's confidence. And, fuck, does Hitoshi love it when his boyfriend gets this way.
“ You want me,” Denki teases, his words pressed against Hitoshi’s lips.
“Of course I do, baby,” Hitoshi croons in that smooth-talking way he knows makes Denki melt. It works. Denki’s bites at Hitoshi’s bottom lip like a starved man. “You know I always want you.”
Denki whines and it makes Hitoshi’s cock throb against Denki’s crotch.
“Take these off, Toshi.” Denki fumbles desperately with Hitoshi’s zipper and it’s almost so cute that Hitoshi doesn’t step in to help. But Denki adds a sad, “Please”, for good measure and it makes Hitoshi cave.
He slides his jeans and boxers off all in one fluid motion, the weight of Denki still on his lap, and when he sits back down, his fully hard cock presses up against the front of Denki’s little shorts.
“Fuck, Toshi,” Denki says, dreamily taking Hitoshi’s length in one fist. Hitoshi just watches as Denki holds the hem of his big t-shirt up by his teeth and slides the waistband of his shorts down to reveal his own hard cock.
Hitoshi closes his eyes, leans his head back against the couch and moans. Fuck. How did he get such a hot fucking boyfriend?
But Hitoshi doesn’t want to close his eyes. He wants to watch. Watch Denki do whatever the fuck he wants with him.
Denki’s hands are smaller, more slender, and he has to use both hands to hold both his and Hitoshi's cocks. It’s precious, Hitoshi thinks. Denki pumps their dicks in his fists, darling little moans muffled by the t-shirt in his mouth. Hitoshi bites down on a groan and digs into Denki’s waist, pretty purple bruises blooming under his fingers. Denki’s pace picks up as both their precum lubes up his grip. He moves smooth and quick until Hitoshi’s eyes a rolling back and he’s seeing stars.
“Aughh–Denks, baby, fu–auhh–” Hitoshi’s voice breaks on what would otherwise be an embarrassing moan if he weren’t focused on other things.
“’m gonna come, Toshi–I’m gonna–” Denki cries out as the t-shirt falls from his mouth and cum stains Hitoshi’s shirt and pants. Denki’s hand falls limply from their dicks and he leans his head onto Hitoshi’s shoulder.
Hitoshi pulls his boyfriend in, kissing the top of Denki’s head as he comes down from his orgasm. He loves this. Just as much as he loves fucking Denki, he loves holding him, loves feeling the rise and fall of Denki’s body against him. His beautiful, beautiful boy.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, kitten,” Hitoshi says, lifting Denki’s chin to plant a kiss on his lips.
Denki’s eyes get big and almost-tearful as he reaches down between them to stroke Hitoshi’s still-hard cock. “But–But you didn’t–”
“Fuck, baby.” Hitoshi’s breath catches in his throat as the sensation spreads through his entire body. It takes him a second, but Hitoshi recollects himself, sweetens his voice so that it drips like honey off his lips. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. You know I always feel good when I’m with you.”
Denki blushes, melting the way he always does when Hitoshi talks to him like this. And Hitoshi would shower Denki with thousands of little praises just to see that shade of pink spread along the bridge of his boyfriend’s nose.
But to Hitoshi’s surprise, Denki tucks his dick back into his little shorts and slides himself down, off Hitoshi’s lap and onto the floor between his legs. He pulls at Hitoshi’s thighs and Hitoshi wordlessly scooches forward. Wordlessly because what the fuck is he supposed to say when one of the hottest pro-heroes in the world is on his knees for him. It’s a fuckin’ sight.
“Denks–” It’s the only sound he is able to get out before Denki has his hand wrapped around the base of Hitoshi’s cock, guiding it towards his mouth.
Denki lives up to his pet name, giving little kitten licks around the tip before taking the entire length of Hitoshi’s cock down his throat. Hitoshi moans and curses, interlacing his fingers through the blonde of Denki’s hair. When Denki’s eyes start to water, Hitoshi mercifully pulls him off of his cock to breathe.
On the couch next to Hitoshi, his phone rings. A selfie of Hanta planting an exaggerated kiss on Hitoshi’s cheek fills the screen. He glances down at Denki, whose lips are still in a perfect O around Hitoshi’s dick, and gets an idea.
Denki’s golden eyes follow the movement of Hitoshi’s hand–the one not tightly fisted in his hair–as it reaches over, grabs the phone, and presses it to his ear.
“Hey, baby,” Hitoshi croons into the phone. Denki starts to pull off, but Hitoshi tightens his grip and holds him in place, eliciting a sweet little yelp from the back of Denki's throat.
Denki can hear the mumble of Hanta on the other line chatting away and Hitoshi holds eye contact as he listens, occasionally offering an affirmative Mhm or Yeah? into the phone.
When Denki starts to whine, Hitoshi pulls on his hair in an effort to fill his mouth back up. He places the phone against his shoulder to hold it to his ear and presses a finger to the smirk on his lips. Shhhh.
“Yeah, we are doing good over here. How’s your mission going, sweetheart?” Hitoshi’s voice is steady as he laughs and converses like his dick isn’t currently being sucked. And Denki wants to be a good boy–he really does–but more than that, he wants to see Hitoshi squirm and wants Hanta to know what he’s missing.
Denki opens his jaw just a little bit more and extends his tongue, pressing it against and running down the vein on the bottom of Hitoshi’s shaft. Hitoshi shudders and shoots Denki a look. He’s on to him, but it only gives Denki the nerve to continue. He sucks Hitoshi’s cock, hollows his cheeks, and swallows the leaking pre on the back of his tongue.
Hitoshi sees stars–forgets where he is, who he’s talking to, the unspoken competition that he was competing in–and lets out an obscene moan.
Denki hears Hanta through the phone, “What the fuck, Hitoshi?” and smiles around the dick in his mouth.
“ Your fucking boyfriend is sucking the soul out of me,” Hitoshi says pointedly as he catches his breath.
“Fuck, Toshi,” Hanta whispers, “this whole phone call?”
“Mhm,” Hitoshi whimpers. There’s a pause, the echo of quickened footsteps through the receiver followed by the sound of a door shutting.
“Tell me about him,” Hanta asks–begs, really.
Hitoshi uncurls his fingers from Denki’s hair and runs his fingertips gently along his boyfriend’s jaw. But before Hitoshi can say anything, Denki takes Hitoshi in all the way, the warmth of Denki’s throat overwhelming Hitoshi’s senses. He takes Hitoshi relentlessly, fueled by the staccato hiccups of Hitoshi’s moans and Hitoshi moves his hand back up to Denki’s hair so he can feel the bob of his boyfriend’s head.
He pulls his boyfriend by the hair so that the heat of Denki’s throat presses against the tip of his cock. Denki looks up at Hitoshi like this, the beginning of a tear forming at the corner of his eye.
“He’s so pretty, baby,” Hitoshi coughs out, “so fucking pretty.”
“Fuck,” Hanta moans. “Is he touching himself?”
“No,” Hitoshi purrs into the phone as he rakes his fingers through Denki’s hair, “would you like him to, sweetheart?”
There’s a strangled Mhm on the other end and Hitoshi feels his dick jump against the roof of Denki’s mouth. God, he has the hottest fucking boyfriends. Hitoshi gazes lovingly at the man beneath him, so pretty as he cries on Hitoshi’s cock.
“You hear that, kitten? Hanta says you can touch yourself.” Hitoshi holds Denki’s chin up so that he can’t look down and Denki fumbles for his own cock, thrusting impatiently into his fist. He groans around Hitoshi’s cock and the vibrations send full body chills through him.
“Toshi…” Hanta whines.
“Oh, fuck, sorry, baby, didn’t mean to neglect you. Denks here just looks so fuckin’ sexy on his knees. God, I wish you could see him, baby. He’ll have to show you once you get back–won’t you, kitten–” Denki nods vigorously, another tear trailing down the curve of his cheek “–you’ll get to see the way he cries on a cock–such a good fucking boy–”
At that, Denki cries out with Hanta’s name on his lips, spilling cum all over his hand and the floor. Hitoshi strokes his length as he watches Denki finish, back arched and thighs trembling. He starts to describe his view to Hanta before he hears the wet, rhythmic sound of skin.
“Are you–are you getting off, sweetheart?”
“Ah–” Hanta’s typically low voice catches high in his throat “–yeah, fuck, yeah.”
“Good, baby. Let me hear you.”
Hanta’s moans get louder and Hitoshi knows his boyfriend well enough to know that he’s about to come. Hitoshi continues to jack off to the sound of Hanta, imagining him here with them. Imagining Hanta’s hard dick on Hitoshi’s tongue while he fucks his fist and Denki peppers kisses up his throat. Imagines being sandwiched between these two–
“Fu–aughh–Han–ta,” Hitoshi cries out, continuing to pump his fist through his orgasm. He hears Hanta finish at the same time and it about makes Hitoshi white out.
There’s a couple beats of silence while all three of them catch their breaths. Hitoshi can hear the heavy breathing and little whimpers of Hanta on the other line and Denki shuffles forward to rest his head on Hitoshi’s lap.
Hitoshi absentmindedly caresses Denki’s hair with his not-sticky hand as he rests his own head against the back of the couch. Fuck . These two were gonna be the death of him. And he loves them so fucking much.