Chapter Text
“Reki, your dad’s here.”
Reki stops mid-sentence, looking up at his mom. “Huh?”
“It’s his weekend,” she says with something like an apology in her voice. “Remember? His makeup weekend from last month when you went on your school trip? I forgot, too.”
Reki groans, and suddenly Langa feels like he’s intruding. He doesn’t know much about Reki’s dad except that Reki doesn’t like him very much. Langa starts to repack his things as Reki and his mom continue discussing.
“But Langa’s here! You said he could stay over!”
“I know, sweetie, but it’s your father’s weekend. We agreed. He’s let you have friends over before. Why don’t you ask him?”
“Ugh, no.”
“Why not? What’s the difference? You’ll still get to hang out. You know your father will leave you alone if you have friends over.”
Reki tenses, his mouth curved into a pout. It seems like he wants to say something, but he hesitates, and Langa can’t help but wonder what the big deal is. Sure, it’s always weird when friends have divorced parents because the parents always have different rules, but it’s seriously not that big a deal.
His mother must see it, too, because she sighs. “At least ask him. The worst he can do is say no.”
“Ask me what?”
Langa looks up at the new voice and stops in the middle of what he’s doing, a balled-up t-shirt halfway into his backpack. Because if that’s Reki’s dad, then Reki’s dad is crazy hot.
From his position on the floor, Langa’s gaze moves up, and up, and up, taking in the man’s long, strong form in an immaculately pressed and form-fitting suit. His hair is styled back, and there’s just the slightest touch of gray in his neatly trimmed sideburns. He sees the instant the man notices his presence, meeting his sharp, molten eyes that look almost red in the light.
“Sorry, Ainosuke. It seems Reki told Langa he could stay for the weekend.”
“Well, that’s no problem at all,” the man says genially. His gaze hasn't moved from Langa. “Reki’s friends are always welcome. Come, we’ll all go together. Assuming it’s alright with your parents, Langa-kun.”
Langa snaps himself out of his trance at the direct address and nods quickly. “It’s fine. My mom won’t mind.”
“Shall we call her from the car, then?”
“I’ll send her a text.”
He finishes stuffing his things back into his bag and quickly shoots Reki a look, wondering if it’s really okay if he crashes the weekend. Reki actually looks relieved, and Langa guesses he shouldn’t be surprised, all things considered. Honestly, the guy seems pretty nice, but Reki probably has his own reasons for their strained relationship. And Langa really doesn’t care whose house he’s at as long as he gets to hang out with this best friend all weekend.
At least this way, he’ll have a nice view.
The ride over to Reki’s dad’s house is mostly quiet except for the soft classical music coming through the speakers. Ainosuke hums along to most of it, and Langa is a little surprised to realize he has a nice sounding voice. Reki can’t carry a tune to save his life, and as far as Langa can tell, neither can his mom, but Ainosuke hums along perfectly, his voice low and rich in a way that makes Langa feel warm as he listens to it.
Reki pokes him every so often to show him a meme or a funny video on his phone, and after about twenty minutes, they pull up to the biggest house Langa has ever seen.
“Holy crap,” he says. Reki clicks his tongue beside him, full of derision, and Ainosuke chuckles in the front seat.
“I guess my dear son didn’t tell you where we were going.” He exits the car and comes around to Langa’s side, opening the back door and gesturing toward the house with a flourish. “Welcome to my home. Please, make yourself as comfortable as you’d like. We have the whole place to ourselves.”
As he walks down the long drive and takes in the extravagant walkways, gardens, and topiaries, Langa wonders how in the hell a single person could possibly occupy all this space. Surely he has like, live-in servants or something to take care of this stuff, right? Or maybe they just come during the day? Langa wonders what it would be like to be a day laborer at a place like this and then go home to the very modest two-bedroom house he shares with his mom. He wonders what they get paid.
Closer to the house, a soft breeze blows, and Langa catches the scent of a huge rose garden. He turns in the direction of the wind, and his jaw drops. The roses are in full bloom, tons of bushes lining a garden bigger than his entire house. He’s never been big on flowers, but he can’t deny that it’s absolutely beautiful. He doesn’t even realize he’s stopped until Reki catches his attention with a call backward from the front door.
“What’s up? Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
Langa nods and continues onward. He catches Ainosuke looking at him again and wonders what the man is thinking. He’s nothing like Reki. His expressions are controlled, and he holds himself with the poise of a guy who knows exactly what he’s worth. He’s kind of hard to read, but Langa thinks he likes that. He’s been told he’s the same way by a lot of people, even Reki and his own mother, and he wonders if Ainosuke is hard to read on purpose or if that’s just how he is.
Upstairs, as it turns out, isn’t just a bedroom like Langa expected. It’s a whole media and game room with everything his heart could ever desire. There are no fewer than six TVs set up on the same wall, each one hooked up to a different game system, and all of them logged in to every streaming service imaginable so you can watch while you play. There’s also a pool table, a ping pong table, a wet bar stocked with snacks and sodas, a full liquor cabinet that Langa is sure Reki has never touched despite the fact that it’s not even locked, a very expensive looking stereo setup, and comfortable seating in every available space. Despite the fact that it’s basically a teenage boy’s wet dream, it’s decorated, as Langa’s mom would say, “tastefully,” which basically just means everything is really clean and made of dark wood and smells like leather.
Reki’s bedroom is also upstairs, but compared to the one at his mom’s house, it’s practically bare. Where the one at his mom’s house is plastered with posters, broken skateboard decks, signed photos, stickers, and littered with tools and skating magazines, the one here looks like a generic bedroom with only the standard furniture and a few paintings on the walls for decoration. There’s nothing about it that says it’s Reki’s room. Langa guesses if Reki wanted to decorate it, he probably would.
“Dinner is served at eight,” Ainosuke says when the boys have set their things down in Reki’s room. “Reki knows how things go here, but if you need anything, Langa-kun, please do not hesitate to ask.”
Langa doesn’t think he’s imagining the innuendo.
“Ugh, sorry,” Reki says, flopping onto the bed the instant his dad is out of the room. “He’s such a creep.”
“He seems nice,” Langa says, because really, what else is he supposed to say? The guy is sex on legs, and it’s not like Langa hates being flirted with by six-foot-two dudes who look like they just walked off the set of a GQ spread.
Reki scoffs. “Are you serious? Have you ever met a nice person before? Seriously, Langa. I know you’re like, not great at talking to people or whatever, but my dad is the literal worst.”
Langa doesn’t respond to that. It’s not that he really disagrees or whatever—Reki knows the guy way better than he does, and hot doesn’t necessarily equal good—but admittedly, the observation stings a little. No, he’s not the best at talking to people, but he’d never thought it was that difficult with Reki.
They watch videos on Reki’s phone for a couple of hours until the dinner bell rings (seriously, what is this place?), and Reki makes a crack about being summoned like a dog as they walk down together. The dining room is as overly luxurious as the rest of the house, and it reminds Langa of a scene from one of those old-timey movies where three people sit at the end of a super long table and you always sort of feel bad for them.
“So, Langa-kun, I take it you’re a classmate of Reki’s?”
“Don’t act like I’ve never talked about my best friend before. You know who he is.” Reki’s eyeroll is nearly audible.
“I thought I might give the boy a chance to defend himself,” Ainosuke says. “After all, your favorite thing to talk about is how all the girls in your class—”
“DAD!”
Ainosuke’s answering smile is so smug, Langa can’t help but hide his own startled laugh behind a cough. He exaggerates a little bit, smacking his chest as if he’s choking, before swallowing down his bite and digging back into his meal.
“This is so good,” he says around a too-big bite of some kind of meat with some kind of purple sauce. “Thanks for having me.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Ainosuke answers. “And you, Reki? Enjoying your meal?”
“‘S Fine.”
“And how is school?”
“Fine.”
“Eloquent as always. Langa-kun, are you as averse to conversation as my son?”
Langa swallows a large bite too soon and it kind of hurts going down. “Um.”
“Take your time. The best meals are meant to be savored.”
So Langa nods and puts down his utensils while he answers the question, Reki’s previous comment fresh in his mind. “Um, no, but apparently I’m not very good at it.”
Ainosuke lets out a throaty laugh at that. His grin is sharp, literally. His canines are practically fangs, and thoughts of how they might feel against his throat pop into his mind unbidden. His gaze drops to Ainosuke’s throat then, the way his Adam’s apple bobs, and wonders how that would feel under his teeth.
Fuck, maybe coming over here was a bad idea. There’s no way he can have the hots this bad for his best friend’s dad, for crying out loud. The guy literally has a kid with Reki’s mom. He might not even like guys, and then all of this thirsting would be for nothing.
Not that Reki’s dad liking dudes would make it okay…
But it would make it possible.
That’s a very dangerous train of thought, so he spends the rest of the meal answering Ainosuke’s questions while carefully avoiding looking at him too much. The rest of the night is spent upstairs with Reki, playing games and just doing other normal hangout stuff until they finally get tired enough to fall quiet.
It’s at least an hour and a half after Reki starts snoring that Langa finally gives up on sleep. He kicks off the blanket and sits up with his feet on the floor. There’s so much of the house he didn’t get to see, and his curiosity leads him out the door and into the hall.
He wanders for a while, waiting to get tired. He’s still wide awake. Eventually, he wanders into a room with a big, glass wall overlooking a breathtaking view. He didn’t realize this house was so high above everything else, but he guesses that makes sense. Important people always live at the top. He gets lost in the view and feels a weird sense of nostalgia for his life in Canada. He used to see the most beautiful views.
Below them, the few houses that still have their lights on this late look like toy houses. How far up are they? “Can anyone even see me?” he wonders aloud.
A voice in his ear startles him out of his reverie. “I could take you right here against the window, and nobody would be the wiser.”
When he spins, he finds himself all but pressed against the window. He has to look up to meet Ainosuke’s eyes. Ainosuke looms above him with his hand pressed to the window beside his head. Langa feels engulfed by him, like a flame, and he’s a moth. He wants to know what that would feel like.
“Are you speaking from experience?”
Ainosuke raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t look surprised by the question. “You aren’t the first friend Reki has brought over.”
It’s obvious to Langa what Ainosuke is trying to do here. He’s not new to the way older men tend to look at him. He’s seen this look before and knows where it goes. And usually, that would be a good option. Except this time, he doesn’t want it to end with a sloppy blowjob and quick fuck. Ainosuke isn’t a boring creep like most of the older guys he meets. He’s interesting. He’s sexy as hell.
The thought of Reki's other friends sparks something jealous inside him. He doesn’t like imagining Ainosuke with others. He doesn’t like being thought of like that. He doesn’t want to be one of the many.
“Reki snores,” he says, instead of indulging the conversation further.
One side of Ainosuke’s lips curve up in response. “Not a very good bedmate, is he?”
Langa shrugs. “Wouldn’t know.”
“I see,” Ainosuke purrs. He leans in so close that Langa can feel the air puff against his lips as he speaks.
Just as their lips are about to meet, Langa turns his head so that the kiss lands on his cheek. He looks defiantly into Ainosuke’s eyes as the man pulls back with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m not that easy,” Langa says, and then he slips below Ainosuke’s braced arm and back the way he came. “Goodnight.”
His heart pounds the entire way back to Reki’s room, and by the time he arrives, it hasn’t slowed a beat. He’s also uncomfortably hard, the vision of Reki’s dad hoisting him up against the large window and fucking him silly very fresh in his mind. He tries to ignore it, tries to close his eyes and go to sleep, but no matter how hard he tries, his heartbeat won’t slow and his erection won’t flag. There’s only one thing to do about it.
As carefully as he can so as not to wake his sleeping friend, Langa covers himself with the sheet and shoves his hand inside his pants to grab hold of his hard dick. Immediately he feels himself begin to relax, even as his heartbeat picks up again. He remembers the feeling of Ainosuke’s lips teasing his own, the feeling of them on his cheek when he turned away. He imagines what he would be like to taste them. What it would be like to be held down by him and pressed close and kissed.
He remembers the faint smell of Ainosuke’s body wash. It smelled clean and floral and also manly, and it made Langa want to put his nose against Ainosuke’s neck and breathe. He thinks of the size of him, looming over him with his extra few inches of height and broad, strong shoulders.
He strokes himself slowly at first, then quicker as he imagines Reki’s dad’s lips on his neck, then his chest. He slides a hand under his shirt to fondle a nipple, but it’s not enough; he wets his fingers in his mouth and then tries again and has to bite his lip at the improvement in sensation. It’s still too dry on his dick, so he spits into his other hand, too, and uses that to help with the glide of skin on skin. It’s better—a little squelchier, which makes him nervous that Reki will hear, but he fucking needs this.
This was not what he expected when he agreed to come over here. Reki’s dad was not what he was expecting. Lying here in the middle of the night, jacking himself under silk sheets while Reki snores loudly and tosses in his own bed in the same room is definitely not what he expected. The danger of it all adds an extra layer of heat to Langa’s already overheated body. He wishes he could rip the sheets off because he’s sweating under there and it’s kind of killing his vibe. Still, he thinks about the puff of Ainosuke’s breath against his ear and inches closer to release.
Without thinking about it, he reaches up to tease his own ear, trying and frustratingly failing to match the sensation. It’s just not the same by himself. He wants more, needs more—
Stop, he tells himself. That’s your best friend’s dad.
The self-scolding doesn’t do anything to make the situation any less hot.
At least make him work for it, he compromises.
As his body pulls taut, pleasure building, his strokes quicken and he can’t help the way his breaths come out in panting gusts. He’s not being as silent as he’d like to be but he can’t stop now. He’s so close—
Sweet relief washes over him as the pleasure pulses throughout his body, and he accidentally lets out a quiet moan before he remembers to clamp his lips shut. After, his gaze darts toward Reki’s sleeping body, thankfully still asleep. Finally, he can calm down and hopefully get some sleep before he has to wake up and face that gorgeous man again.
Langa lies on his back, perfectly still and eyes closed, and focuses on trying to sleep. He focuses very hard on not thinking about Ainosuke, or the way the fabric of his pressed shirt teased the lean muscle underneath, or the just barely there stubble on Ainosuke’s face scraping against his own, still so clean cut even at the end of the night, or—
He huffs in frustration and yanks his pajama pants and underwear all the way down to his ankles. He spreads his knees wide and fists himself again, hard and fast, way too impatient to bother with teasing himself this time. He’s chasing just one goal—his finish—quickly and efficiently.
It’s maddening how much of an effect this guy has on him. It’s never been like this with anyone. Next to Ainosuke, everyone else feels like a dirty, cheap fuck. Ainosuke feels like the most decadent dessert, rich and indulgent—or so Langa imagines. He’s no longer pretending not to think about Ainosuke. There’s no point when he definitely wants him. He loses himself in the fantasy of Ainosuke holding him by the waist and fucking him hard and fast and frenzied. When he cums the second time, it dribbles over onto his hand, and he absentmindedly wipes it off on the bottom sheet.
He barely even remembers to pull his pants up before he finally falls into a restful slumber.
The morning brings with it some interesting challenges, most especially: the cum on his shirt, the cum on his top sheet, and the cum on his bottom sheet.
Shit.
He mentally curses himself for being so careless. At home, he does his own laundry, so he hadn’t even given it a thought. Here, though, there’s no way he can get away with throwing in a load. How weird would that be? Not to mention obvious. No, the best he can do is strip them and ball them up and hope Ainosuke doesn’t notice.
“The hell are you doing, dude?” Reki’s voice interrupts him from across the room. Langa angles himself away to hide the front of his shirt from view.
“Oh, uh, force of habit,” he lies. “In Canada you always strip your sheets when you stay over at someone’s house.”
“Oh. Huh.” Reki makes a face like he thinks that’s dumb—which, to be fair, it is—but he quickly shakes it off and accepts the explanation. “Well, leave them there. ‘Let the staff do their jobs,’ as my dad would say.”
“Um.” Langa makes an aborted motion to set the soiled sheets on the bed, remembering his shirt again. “I gotta change, so…”
“Pfft, what, like I’m looking? Yeah, right. Ha. Ha ha.” Langa does his best to ignore the weird, uneasy feeling he gets until he’s sure Reki has turned around. He pulls his shirt off and changes into his clean one as quickly as possible, then, with another quick glance back, changes back into yesterday’s jeans, too. He wishes he had brought an extra pair of underwear since a few drops on those, too, but at least they’re not totally ruined. They’ll make it until he can get home and shower.
God, he needs a shower. For so many reasons.
Once he’s finished changing, he sits on the stripped bed, signaling that Reki can stop staring at the opposite wall. Reki looks nervous all of a sudden, and Langa’s heart drops. Please don’t be a confession.
Reki sits gingerly on his own bed and clears his throat. “So, um.” His right index finger scratches at one of the stitches on his pants while his other can’t seem to decide what it wants to do. “About last night.”
Langa’s pulse skyrockets. Oh, fuck. He’s been caught.
He swallows thickly and tries to play it cool. “Last night?”
“Yeah, I, uh… I woke up at some point and—”
It’s not what you think! Langa wants to scream, but he has no idea how else he could possibly explain what he was doing.
“—you didn’t come back for a while, at least not by the time I fell back asleep, so I just thought—”
Wait, what’s he saying? “Huh?”
Reki pauses, seemingly even more unsure, though now Langa’s confused about what. Reki fidgets and twitches, then takes a deep breath and all at once—
“Did my dad do something to you?”
It takes a moment for the question to compute. His dad? So this wasn’t about— so Reki had woken up while Langa was out exploring. Phew. That’s a relief.
Then, as quickly as the relief comes, it vanishes again. Had Reki gotten up to come find him?
“What do you mean?”
“I–I mean… Look, my dad’s kind of a creep, okay? Like I know I say that all the time, but there’s a reason we don’t get along. He used to be my idol, ya know? Like what little kid doesn’t think his dad is a superhero? And he does all this great work for the government, right, so obviously— Look, that’s not the point. He’s a creep. I used to bring friends over here all the time, but as I got older, they all stopped wanting to come over. Like… Like I’d bring someone over to spend the night, and then the next day they’re acting all weird and avoiding my dad and then they suddenly stop being free on weekends which eventually means they stop being free at all… And since we woke up you’ve been acting… kinda…”
Reki trails off, clearly down and hurting. It makes Langa feel even guiltier for wanting Ainosuke the way he does, and for what he did right across the room from Reki last night while thinking about his dad, the dad that drove away Reki’s friends. He sighs, relieved at least that he doesn’t have to lie about this.
“Oh! No, it’s nothing like that. I just… I couldn’t sleep last night, so I got up and wandered around for a while until I got tired enough to fall asleep. So. Just tired, I guess. Sorry.”
Reki visibly untenses. “Oh, good. So, you’re not gonna like, ghost me now or anything, right?” He laughs awkwardly to try to make light of the question, but it’s obvious that he’s genuinely insecure about it.
“Of course not,” Langa answers, trying for a light tone to match. Then, he takes the opportunity presented to him. “I’d love to come back here. Your dad has so much cool stuff.”
Reki falls back onto the bed and sighs heavily. “Yeah, I guess.” A beat of silence, and then, “Man, I’m glad to hear you say that. I was actually like, really worried.”
Langa doesn’t bother to point out how poorly he hid it. “Well, yeah, so. Any time.”
The conversation ends on lamely, and suddenly, Langa is confronted with the reality that he has to go home. Who knows when the next time will be? Or even if there will ever be a next time? Reki might never bring him back if he’s that worried about what Ainosuke might do to him. Unbeknownst to him, though, Langa is equally if not more fixated on that exact question, and it is a highly motivational reason to come back.
He remembers last night, how he was so desperate to get off after their late night encounter that had to jerk off twice, and he knows that he’ll never be able to wait until the next time Reki invites him to experience that type of hunger again. He comes up with a plan. It’s a long shot, but it’s the best he can do for now.
So the next time Reki steps out of the room, he rummages around for pencil and paper (easy, since Reki is always drawing) and quickly writes down his phone number. He hesitates, wondering if he should write his name, but ultimately decides against it. If Ainosuke really wants him, he’ll know who it is. He folds the paper and slips it into his back pocket before Reki gets back.
He can feel it burning a hole in his pocket, now, and suddenly he’s desperate to get out of here and back to the safety and solitude of his own bedroom.
“So I should probably go,” he says. “Haven’t done my homework yet.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Reki whines. “Can’t you blow it off for a few more hours? We can play DDR. My dad has the whole machine. Two of them, actually.”
Langa gapes. “No way. Seriously?”
“Yeah,” Reki laughs. “I don’t even know why. It’s not like I ever play it by myself.”
“I used to play it all the time,” Langa says. “I got really good at it.”
“Ugh, you and my dad should play, then. I suck.”
The image of dancing with Ainosuke jumps to mind and quickly morphs into something much less DDR and much more sensual, bodies pressed close, hands on the small of his back, the arousing scent of aftershave—
“Um, yeah. That would be. Uh. Okay, well I’ll see you later.”
He stands, frazzled, picks up his things, and makes his way toward the front with Reki on his heels.
“Don’t you need a ride? We’re like way out here, dude. You can’t walk back to your place.”
Langa stops short. “Oh, right.” He pulls out his phone to call his mom, then remembers she’s at work today. “My mom can’t come get me.”
“It’s fine,” Reki sighs. “Tadashi will take you.”
“Who?”
As if on cue, a very serious looking man in a suit steps into view. “I’ve come to take you home, Langa-kun,” the man says. His voice is low and soft, but confident. He seems like a very no-nonsense type of person.
“Uhhhhhhmmokay. That’s… fine.”
Tadashi’s facial expression doesn’t change when he says, as if reading Langa’s hesitation, “I was instructed to make sure you return home safely.”
Langa quickly gathers that this man must be a member of their staff, like a driver or a personal assistant or something. He wonders how many people Ainosuke employs in his own home and briefly considers how much money he could get paid to do a job like this for someone. He doesn’t ask, though, because he’s been told it’s rude to ask people about money.
“Okay,” he says, though he doesn’t move. The note is still in his pocket, and Ainosuke is nowhere to be found. He looks around for an excuse, any excuse, to leave the room, and then goes for the obvious, “I have to go to the bathroom,” escaping before anyone can ask any follow-up questions.
He moves swiftly through the house, trying not to take too much time getting back. He heads in the direction of Ainosuke’s office, his plan to leave the number on his desk if nothing else, but thankfully he’s saved the trouble of getting that far when he turns a corner and finds the man who hasn’t left his mind for a second.
“Here,” he says, pulling the paper out of his pocket and holding it out in front of him. Ainosuke doesn’t question him, just takes the paper and gracefully slips it into his breast pocket without even opening it. “Use it.” Ainosuke smiles.
Then, Langa turns and goes, practically power walking back to where Tadashi is waiting to take him home.
“It was lovely to meet you, Langa-kun!” Ainosuke calls after him. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”
Langa spends the whole ride home praying that’s true.