Benevolence

by useless_donut

Summary:

Barou may be gay, but it’s stunningly easy to ignore the fugly jackasses on his team. Most of them aren’t even his type, so it’s terrible luck that the one man he can’t completely ignore is the notorious and obnoxious flirt, Oliver Aiku.

Chapter 1: why IS aiku's bed that clean?

Notes:

This fic references things from the manga, Egoist Bible 2 Electric Boogaloo, the Blue Lock PWC mobile game, and Barou’s light novel, so spoiler warnings for those things <3

Also we're going with Oliver being Aiku's first name in this fic :')

The locker room is nearly empty. The air is thick with steam from post-practice showers, fogging over the mirrors and leaving everything feeling slightly damp. Barou hears a shower shut off and ignores it as he gathers his things from his locker. His kit is safely stored in a sealed bag until he can properly clean it, with separate bags for his shoes, towel, face towel, and various toiletries. 

The wet thump of a heavy, freshly-showered body hitting the bench sounds from behind him. It could be any of their heavier players. If he’s unlucky, it’ll be Shidou and Barou will have nightmares about all the sperm he probably left on the shower floor, or it could be Aryu, and he’s in for an unpleasant, one-sided bout of noisy gossip (and nightmares about long strands of hair left in the shower drain). 

“Barou-chan,” an unmistakably sing-song voice comes from behind him. Ah, it’s the third, even worse option: one of the co-captains of the new U-20 team, Aiku Oliver.

Barou’s shoulders hunch, hackles raised automatically as he turns around. It doesn’t matter if he braces himself: Aiku is distracting when he’s naked. Or in this case, with his towel draped loosely over the tops of his large thighs, like it’s pure accident it even covers his groin at all. It definitely doesn’t cover the trail of dark hair leading up his stomach, or the patchy chest hair spread across generously-muscled pectorals. 

Barou’s known he was gay for as long as he can remember, but generally regards attraction as unworthy of his time. Aiku just manages to make himself… difficult to ignore. He’s beginning to suspect it’s on purpose.

“Barou-chan, my eyes are up here,” Aiku adds, his smug little grin audible in his tone. Barou’s eyes snap up, and he bares his teeth in response to Aiku’s knowing look. 

Before he can retort, he hears the last shower shut off, a shower curtain swish almost violently, and then the sound of bare feet running wetly across the locker room floor. Shidou skids around the corner seconds later, leaving damp footprints everywhere, sopping hair stuck to his face and neck in pink-blond strands. Barou stares at him in dismay.

”What’re we looking at?” Shidou yells in pure delight, sliding the last few feet and throwing his arm around Barou’s shoulders. And getting his clean shirt wet. 

Nevermind that Shidou is naked, a state he apparently tries to achieve as frequently as possible—Barou doesn’t care about that. But the strength of his body hitting Barou’s side, the weight of his arm, the way he’s vibrating with energy is upsettingly compelling. Barou has to remind himself that he isn’t attracted to Shidou, he simply refuses to be. He puts the full strength of his iron will into not being attracted to anyone on their team of imbeciles, but Aiku had already put cracks in his mental fortitude and Shidou is as pretty as a carnivorous flower. 

That’s why Barou freezes instead of immediately breaking as many of Shidou’s ribs as possible before Aiku manages to stop him. 

“Me-ow,” Shidou says, tilting his head as if trying to achieve Barou’s exact same point of view. His wet hair leaves cold tracks down Barou’s cheek as he considers Aiku. “Yep, just what I expected. Captain-chan’s bosom is incredible! So don’t worry, Mr. Evil King, I wouldn’t be looking at his eyes either.”

To Barou’s mortification, Aiku cups his own chest and winks at them both. “Aw, shucks. Not even gonna take me out to dinner first?”

“Careful, captain, I might take you up on that,” Shidou says in a low, promising voice that makes the hair on the back of Barou’s neck rise. Shocked out of stasis, Barou growls and shoves Shidou away hard enough he nearly skids into Aiku. 

“You got me wet,” Barou snarls, “I’m gonna—“

“Most people love when I get them wet,” Shidou says happily, then yelps when Aiku swats his ass. 

“Alright, git,” Aiku tells him, “I don’t wanna have to break up a fight, lovebug.”

”Boring!’ Shidou yells, but trots away, snagging his track pants off the counter (disgusting) and stepping into them as he heads for the door. Barou wonders for a moment if he’s really going commando in his dirty sweats, but decides he’s already been through enough hardship and doesn’t need to inflict any more Shidou-related thoughts upon himself.

They both listen to the locker room door swing open and slam shut. Then Aiku says, “I wonder what kind of dinner date Shidou would take me on? I feel like raw meat would be involved. Maybe oysters. Strippers? No—burlesque.”

“I’m leaving.” This is not a conversation Barou ever wants to have. He throws his neatly-packed duffel bag over his shoulder. “I need to go sanitize everything that pervert touched.”

“Oh, wait, I wanted to ask you something,” Aiku says, standing. His towel falls to the ground. Barou resolutely stares straight into his eyes. He’ll die before becoming the freak in the locker room who can’t be normal about other naked people. 

“What is it?” Barou asks tersely. 

“You didn’t come to the onsen with everyone last time.”

Barou flings an arm out to point in the direction Shidou went. “And why do you think?”

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious why,” Aiku says, grinning as he picks his towel up and wraps it around his waist. “It was a great place though, you should go before we head back to Tokyo. Actually, we can go today after dinner.”

“We?” Barou is rightfully suspicious. 

“Just us two,” Aiku says, like he’s doing Barou a huge fucking favor. “Unless you want me to invite more people?”

Barou scoffs. “If I go at all, it will be alone.”

“But then who will wash that gorgeous back of yours?” Aiku asks, unperturbed. “So I figure we can head out after dinner; it’s not far. I’ll make a reservation.”

“I’m not going,” Barou says disdainfully and makes himself walk towards the exit. Trying to argue with Aiku is impossible, and they both know he’ll probably be dying to escape the hotel sooner rather than later. Their team isn’t exactly quiet, and if the noise wasn’t enough to drive Barou up a wall, the second-hand embarrassment over their horrific manners would do it.

 

By eight that night, Barou’s back in the showers with Aiku—this time, at the local onsen Aiku had mentioned. 

He’d lasted about five seconds watching Aiku try to scrub his back before insisting on doing it himself. Aiku was surprisingly cooperative and now Barou’s working out the day’s frustrations on Aiku’s skin, which has turned a nice shade of reddish-pink. He has freckles on his shoulders. Barou reminds himself not to be gentle.

“Hm,” Barou says, lifting the sponge. He might be done with this area, and therefore with his excuse to touch Aiku.

Aiku looks up over his shoulder at him. “No, don’t stop, I still have a few layers of skin left.”

“Ungrateful wretch,” Barou drones. The shower is perfectly warm, and the body soap they have actually is nice—a light fragrance, not overpowering. It’s hard to stay angry.

“Thanks for washing my back, Barou-chan,” Aiku says agreeably. “I really wasn’t telling you to stop, you know.”

“I’m done anyway,” Barou mutters. “Here, get mine. And don’t slack off.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

True to his word, Aiku does a thorough job. Barou almost expects to feel Aiku’s hand on his ass or something similarly lecherous, but the touch never comes. Aiku even listens when Barou tells him to redo an area, or scrub harder. Unbelievable. 

He watches Aiku closely as they finish washing off, but he cleans himself to Barou’s standards. Every muscled inch of his body is lathered up, scrubbed, and rinsed. It’s clear he’s no slacker, if their time playing together hadn’t already proved that a hundred times over. Aiku is one of the few who occasionally join Barou’s daily workouts, and even if he gratuitously whines the whole time, Barou had come to suspect he did so more to provoke conversation than from actual hardship.

It’s only once Aiku leads them towards the pool that Barou realizes he’s had his eyes on Aiku’s body all night, and is he the one who’s a pervert? Unnerved, Barou stays quiet as he ties up his hair. Then he realizes there’s no one else there, and the pool is relatively small. 

Aiku must have noticed his hesitation, because he pauses at the edge and explains: “I reserved a private room. We’ve got an hour in here.”

Barou tenses. An hour alone with Aiku? “Why?”

Aiku doesn’t share his apprehension, easing himself into the pool with a contented sigh. “‘Cause you’re not gonna really relax with a bunch of strangers running around. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Barou grunts in response, too surprised to actually say anything because Aiku’s right. It only takes one energetic kid or stupid tourist to ruin the bath for everyone and if this place is actually that popular, there’s a high chance of either or both occurring. 

The water is steaming and the night is clear and cool. It’s all ideal. The only thing that could make it better was if Aiku hadn’t invited himself along… no, Barou can’t lie to himself. When he keeps his mouth shut, Aiku is pleasant company. 

Barou climbs into the pool, sinking in up to his neck and shutting his eyes in bliss. His muscles slowly relax, and he can feel his body begin to properly reset after the post-match adrenaline dump. If only they could do this every time, he might actually be nice to people sometimes. 

A faint rustle reminds him Aiku is there too, and Barou narrowly opens his eyes to check on him. It’s nothing nefarious, though, just a towel now settled on Aiku’s head. Steam rises from it faintly. In the muted lantern light, Aiku looks less like an attention-seeking loser; his wet hair just looks black and with his eyes closed, he could almost be any unshaven salaryman off the street. 

Even so, the lack of obvious purple and neon don’t make him any less striking. Shadows follow the long lines of his neck, exposed from how Aiku’s head is tipped back to rest against one of the rocks lining the pool. His damp skin, so meticulously cleaned by Barou earlier, seems to shimmer in the humid air. It makes his hair curlier, too, where parts are beginning to dry. 

Barou doesn’t realize he’s staring until Aiku’s eyes drift open and meet his. 

“Everything up to your royal standards?” Aiku teases, though too mellow for even Barou to take offense. 

Barou huffs softly. “It’s not bad.”

“Not bad? From King Barou-chan himself? I’ll put that on my resume,” Aiku murmurs, sinking a few inches deeper, then letting out a satisfied hum. “This is almost better than clubbing.”

”Everything is better than clubbing,” Barou grunts. 

“Well, that’s true around here. Local nightlife blows.”

Barou makes himself look away, up at the stars, the patches of darkness where clouds cover the night sky, the blinking lights of planes passing overhead. He asks, “Why’d you do all this?”

“Well, you deserve a chance to relax too.”

”I chose not to go with everyone. I can handle the outcome of my own decision.” He sounds more ungrateful than he means to, but Aiku doesn’t seem bothered. 

Aiku’s complacent expression finally gives way, and he looks more like his mischievous self again. “Okay, fine, you got me. Me and Karasu figured we shouldn’t just let everyone terrorize you into hiding in the hotel the whole trip.”

“Other people don’t terrorize me,” Barou hisses under his breath, “I terrorize them.” 

“Semantics,” Aiku waves him off, making ripples in the water with his wrist. “Anyway, it’s not like there’s any decent nightlife out here for me to indulge in, and we’ve barely gotten to hang out properly since the NEL,” he pouts.

Barou frowns at him, not wanting to admit that he’d also appreciated his time on the Ubers. He hasn’t yet managed to fully take over the U-20, but he also hasn’t forgotten that Aiku was the first to back him in that game against the Bastards. He still catches himself thinking of Aiku as his general, his defender.

That hasn’t changed in the short time that they’ve been practicing as part of Japan’s new U-20 national team, nor had it changed during their first away game, held earlier today.

Then Aiku says, “Also, you deserve a chance to be in the onsen without Nagi’s spit in it.”

Barou full-body shudders at the memory of that pale freak blowing bubbles in the communal pool, other thoughts forgotten momentarily. “You got that right,” he growls. 

Aiku raises his eyebrows as if to say, see? 

Barou doesn’t deign to respond. He’s too busy considering that Aiku might actually have no ulterior motive for doing all this. The disappointment settling in his stomach is absurd, but it’s there anyway. At least Aiku shuts his eyes again, so Barou can go back to absolutely not looking at his collarbones in peace. 

 

Back in the hotel, Barou is feeling relaxed enough to tolerate Aiku’s arm thrown over his shoulders without complaint. It’s near time to sleep, so he’s eager to get to his room. Then he sees, of all things, a revolting sock on his door handle. 

“What the hell,” Barou growls under his breath. “I’m gonna kill Kiyora.”

Aiku starts busting up laughing for no goddamn reason, saying something about how Barou should “wait” or “stop,” which he absolutely won’t do. 

He yanks open the door, all the more furious for how peaceful he’d been feeling earlier. “Don’t put your dirty laundry on the door handle!” He yells, full volume, “Why would you even—”

Then he registers the sight before him. He’s yelling at Karasu’s half-turned back, who has twisted around to stare at him with abject shock. Beneath him, Kiyora sits up to peek around Karasu’s side, like Barou coming into his own room is just a mild curiosity. Karasu has turned bright red, face twitching like he’s trying to come up with a cool expression despite being caught red-handed. 

“What’d’ya want? We’re busy,” Karasu says, snatching up a pillow and covering his crotch with it. Unfortunately, he’s too late to stop Barou from seeing the harness and thick, purple dildo he’d apparently been using on Kiyora. 

“I’m gonna to start chargin’ ya for staring,” Karasu drawls. The effect is ruined by his red ears. 

“Why—what—how dare you defile my room like this,” Barou snarls. 

Kiyora’s eyes go half-lidded. “Our room. What we’re doing is having sex, and we’re doing that because we wanted to. Have you never heard of knocking?”

“I shouldn’t have to knock to enter my own room!”

“Hey now, we even put a sock on the door,” Karasu shrugs. “Sorry budzo, everyone gets sexiled sometimes. We’ll be done in about…”

“A few hours, if you know what’s good for you,” Kiyora says, looking up at Karasu. “It’s not like you can’t keep it up.”

“You disgust me,” Barou says, voice shaking with actual revulsion.

Karasu’s pink, scandalized expression turns distinctly cold. “Let’s not get ugly about this,” he says, shifting slightly in front of Kiyora. Protectively. Barou bristles, prompted to aggression by Karasu’s defensive stance. 

“You two actually are sickening,” Barou says, grabbing the offending sock with a disdainful thumb and forefinger and tossing it towards Kiyora’s bed. Karasu’s chin jerks up, like he’s going to fistfight Barou, harness and strap and all. 

Before anything can happen, Barou feels Aiku’s arms around his waist, pulling him back to Aiku’s chest with deceptive strength.

“Hey, hey, I’m sure he doesn’t mean it like that,” Aiku interjects, hooking his chin over Barou’s shoulder. His stomach flips over in fury; no one should be able to manhandle him with such ease. Before he can voice a protest, Aiku goes on to say, “he’s probably just mad you’re not using a condom—sex toys can transmit diseases as well if they’re not properly cleaned, you know.”

Karasu’s jaw drops. 

Aiku adds, “Barou-chan might be a little bristly, but he’s definitely not a bigot.”

Barou stills, eyes darting between Karasu and Kiyora’s face. “I’m not a—a what? What the hell are you jackasses talking about?”

Karasu’s eyes narrow as he stares down Aiku. “Gay people can still be transphobic, ya know.”

It finally clicks into place, and it pisses Barou off almost as much as the sock on the door handle had. 

“Transphobic?! ” he screeches. Aiku flinches away, but keeps his hold on Barou’s middle. Barou pays him no mind, yelling, “why would I give a shit about trans people when you put a sock on a doorknob?! It’s disgusting! It’s the same as shoving your nasty foot into someone’s hand! Did you even pick a clean sock? I’m going to have to bleach the whole fucking door!”

Behind him, Aiku is shaking with laughter, face buried against Barou’s shoulder to muffle his giggles. Karasu looks even more shocked than before, and Kiyora is looking off to the side with what should be guilt and is probably just apathy. 

“WELL?!” Barou shouts. 

“Uh, we used one of Tabito’s,” Kiyora mutters. “Don’t know if it was clean or not.” 

A vein bulges in Barou’s forehead. Karasu, at least, looks sheepish. Being one of the team’s captains has somewhat improved his middling personality. He says,“Sorry, dude, shoulda thoughta that. I promise we’ll clean the door when we’re done, okay? We’ll use your wipes an’ everything.”

“Well, that’s settled!” Aiku chirps loudly. “Barou-chan, you can crash with me if you want.”

Barou finally wrestles away from him, glaring. “I do not want to, but it’s better than spending another second with these savages.”

He grabs his toiletries as quickly as possible, shooting the two in bed one last death glare before shoving Aiku out of the room and slamming the door behind them. 

Aiku trails after him as he storms down the hallway. He feels twisted up, oddly guilty and still angry, but also just frustrated at not being understood. No one ever fucking understands anything.

“So,” Aiku says from behind him, sounding cheerful, “now you know what sexiling is! Isn’t that fun?” Barou whips around, ready to yell at Aiku. Aiku’s come to a halt, pointing at one of the doors. “Also, here’s my room. Me and Karasu always room together ‘cause the co-captains thing, so he obviously won’t be here. I figure it’s fair game to use his bed.”

Barou makes a face, but still follows Aiku into the room. It’s neater than he expects, no clothes strewn across the floor, no suspicious smells. Aiku takes off his shoes and puts on slippers, then leads the way in. 

“This is me, and that’s Karasu’s,” he says, pointing at the beds. Aiku’s bed is made surprisingly nicely, like he had housekeeping come in and tidy during the day. The only objectionable part is the several boxes of condoms and bottle of lube on his nightstand, but he supposes that’s better than Aiku not using condoms at all. 

Karasu’s bed is… a problem; Barou takes one look and recoils. The covers are halfway pulled down, and across the sheets is a mess of sex toys, lingerie, and other paraphernalia Barou wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. He takes a step back. 

“Absolutely not,” he declares. Aiku looks over, then laughs. 

“Oh, Karasu must’ve been getting ready for his big date. Probably wanted to impress that curly-headed twink, huh?” 

Barou couldn’t care less. “I am not sleeping on those sheets.”

“You can use my bed,” Aiku says, waving away his concerns. “All the sheets are clean; I had them replaced this morning.”

Barou frowns. “Why?”

Aiku’s smile turns impish. “You sure you wanna know?”

“Why am I surrounded by filthy peasants,” Barou sighs. 

“You should be grateful! I’m so filthy that I’ll even use Karasu’s gross nasty bed so you don’t have to,” Aiku tells him, which, good point. But he’d worked hard to scrub Aiku clean, and the thought of his bare shoulders against that defiled fabric… he shudders. 

“You shouldn’t sleep there either.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Aiku says, angling to start clearing off Karasu’s bed. Barou holds out an arm to stop him. 

“No. I didn’t go to all the effort of scrubbing your back clean just for you to rub it all over Karasu’s sex toys,” Barou snaps. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Aiku pauses, shirt pulled over his head but still resting on his upper arms. “Okay, that does complicate things.”

“I’ll find somewhere else to sleep,” Barou says irritably. It’s getting late. It’s his bedtime. The goodwill built up from an hour of peace in the onsen has run dry. 

“Wait, hang on,” Aiku says, taking his shirt off the rest of the way and tossing it onto Karasu’s bed. “I can find somewhere else to sleep easy, you can still use my bed.”

“Really.”

Aiku winks at him. “Gimme ten minutes on Grindr and I’ll have a place to crash.”

Barou stops trying to leave, his back to the door. His face is pinched with emotion, but he’s not sure what exactly he’s feeling; he just knows it pisses him off to hear Aiku talk like that. Not even because of the inherent risks of casual sex, but just… Aiku would rather go to all that trouble to fuck a stranger than share a bed with him? Aiku’s not even going to suggest it?

“Why the hell are you being so nice?” Barou says, crossing his arms. 

Aiku’s smile fades into confusion. “I’m always nice, Barou-chan. What’s wrong?”

“Just—what’s the fucking catch,” Barou says. “You doing all this shit. The onsen. Giving me your bed. There’s gotta be a catch.”

“There’s no catch,” Aiku says impatiently. “We’re friends, man. I don’t need a special reason.”

“Right,” Barou mutters. Aiku evidently doesn’t want him like that, which is completely fine.

Aiku looks at him for a long moment. Refusing to back down, Barou meets his eyes with a stare of his own. Finally, Aiku’s lashes lower, and he goes from looking puzzled to something more predatory. 

“You sound so unhappy,” Aiku says slowly. He takes a step forward. “Are you unsatisfied, Barou-chan?”

Barou’s back bumps up against the door. He swallows hard, hands making fists where they’re tucked against his ribs. “Get to the point,” he orders. 

Aiku draws even closer. “Did you want there to be a catch? Is that why you keep asking?”

Barou’s mouth goes dry. Humiliatingly, Aiku is correct. Barou realizes he’s been waiting all night to get hit on, and Aiku never even made a move. It was insulting. Infuriating. Frustrating, Aiku is always so damn frustrating. 

“Shut up,” Barou says hoarsely. 

“You know I never do that,” Aiku says. His smile returns, but now it’s too promising, too knowing. He reaches out slowly, then runs a finger down the center of Barou’s chest. 

Barou holds completely still, muscles locked, afraid to move and scare him away even as he’s half-mad with indignation that Aiku dared to touch him at all. 

“What did you think would happen, Barou?” Aiku asks in a low voice. “Was I to run a hand up your thigh in the pool? See if you got a little excited from seeing me naked? I know you were looking.”

“I wasn’t,” Barou protests. His voice is so dry it cracks. 

Aiku tilts his head slightly, eyes shadowed by his bangs. “Or maybe this was all a ploy, maybe I sent Karasu away just to get you alone in my room. Trick you into bed. Kiss along your perfect jawline once you’d fallen asleep. Do you think I would do that?”

Barou swallows hard. He regrets his fitted track pants now, as they do nothing to hide the swelling between his legs. Aiku finally steps back, all the lechery clearing from his face just like that.

“Or did you think I only do things for my friends for sexual favors?” Aiku asks, his usual jovial tone long gone.

Is Aiku actually insulted? Barou doesn’t go out of his way to be nice, but he hadn’t meant to imply all that, or to hurt Aiku. He grits his teeth, willing his cheeks not to burn at being misunderstood yet again. It stings worse, somehow, when Aiku is the one who fails to understand him.

“That’s not what I—no. I don’t think that. Sorry,” Barou says gruffly. “I’m leaving.”

“Hey, hey, don’t run off,” Aiku says quickly, before Barou can even turn towards the door. “As long as you know it’s not like that, we’re all good. No hard feelings, Barou-chan.”

Barou watches him uncertainly, unsure why Aiku’s grin is so sunny now. Then Aiku steps up, leans in, and puts his hand on the door right next to Barou’s head like he thinks he’s a lead in one of the crappy dramas Barou’s mother watches. 

“So, Barou-chan. Was I right? Are you looking?” Aiku’s tone is sickeningly suggestive.

“Huh?” Barou flattens himself against the door, pulse pounding. Aiku’s moods change so quickly, so easily. He can’t keep up, and he hates it. 

“‘Cause the obvious solution is sharing my bed,” Aiku says, still smiling. “I wasn’t gonna suggest it, I didn’t want you to think I did all this just to get in your—” his eyes dip down, then run up Barou’s body, lingering between his legs, “—rather tight sweatpants, which is true. But I’m certainly not opposed.”

“Right,” Barou chokes out, fairly mortified. Aiku shoves in even closer until he’s mere inches away, and Barou’s whole field of vision is Aiku, Aiku, Aiku.

Aiku’s voice purrs from his chest as he says, “I’ll share more than my bed with you, Barou-chan. I’m very generous.”

It feels like he’s thinking through static. The only thing Barou manages to say is, “Have you been tested for STIs recently?”

Aiku blinks at him, backing off in his surprise. “Woah, you really do wanna fuck.”

Barou clenches his jaw. Thankfully, Aiku recovers quickly. 

“I was tested a week ago,” Aiku says, “Did you know Blue Lock will do your panels for free? But also…” he trails off, rolling his eyes slightly, “I have had several partners since then.”

“I saw your condoms,” Barou says haltingly, barely managing to stop himself from commenting on how Aiku apparently managed several partners in the last week alone. “You. Used them. Right?”

Aiku pulls a face. “Weeeell… not if they didn’t tell me to. It just feels so much better raw, you know?”

Barou glares at him, unreasonably disappointed, though mostly in himself for expecting anything else. After a moment, Aiku backs off with a shrug.

“Or maybe you don’t know. Anyway, it’s not like there isn’t other stuff we can do.”

Barou probably should leave. Worst case, he’ll book another room with his own money. If Aiku had propositioned him this morning, he’d have shut him down harshly, if not with physical violence. He’s not sure what’s changed, but he finds himself pushing past him and setting his things down by Aiku’s bed. 

“I’m gonna go wash up,” Aiku tells him. Barou doesn’t look over, instead organizing the bedside table and arranging his things to his satisfaction. He hears Aiku in the bathroom, the unmistakable sounds of brushing his teeth, gargling mouthwash, and splashing noises. He’s probably otherwise clean since the onsen. 

As disgusting as Aiku might be otherwise, Barou can’t find much to complain about. Even if he considers it bare minimum, he’s pleasantly satisfied that Aiku took initiative to clean himself. 

He follows suit once Aiku’s done, barely acknowledging him as he enters the bathroom and ignoring Aiku’s curious look. He stares himself down in the mirror, forcing himself to face what he’s doing. Taking Aiku as a lover, even for one night, feels dangerously out of character but the truth is it’s been a long time since Barou’s done this. Possibly too long. 

The only person he’s been with was a boy on one of his high school teams, who’d been enamored enough with him to practically beg for it. His name had been… Tsukasa, Barou thinks. Barou had hated it a lot less than expected, though he recognizes now that his tolerance for Tsukasa had more to do with his willingness to follow Barou’s various rules than actual attraction on Barou’s part. 

Barou knows his standards for hygiene, behavior, and so forth are too much for most people, but Tsukasa had done whatever he wanted. Never pushed back. A proper servant for a king, Barou thinks with disinterest, spitting mouthwash into the sink. He knows better than to expect that from Aiku.

Notes:

It's funny how I thought this as gonna be a like, 10k word one shot where they'd bond in an onsen and then go hook up later. I'd be making funny little jokes about how if I'm not careful it's gonna be like 30k words, and now that I'm finished writing it, it's actually about 69k... well, the good news is that it's all written & I'm just editing in between posting chapters

also I also don’t know if co-captains are a thing, and I've written too much with it to change it now. I also just like imagining Aiku & Karasu conversations

poor Barou is not transphobic but sadly I, a trans person, thinks it's funny to torment him with social situations. I hope u guys enjoyed this first chapter!! the next chapter is just a huge wall of smut brace yourself

Chapter 2: oh, the bacteria of it all

Notes:

ahhhhhh i think you guys can already tell, but i'm so sweet on aiku who's just genuinely that nice. he's still gonna shoot his fucking shot, though

ah, how rare for me to write a main character who isn't a raging bitch 24/7 <3 aiku manages to keep my interest (despite not being a bitch) by being so incredibly obnoxious so there's that

When he leaves the bathroom, Aiku jumps up off the bed and comes to him, wearing nothing but his briefs. Barou stands still, wary and tense as Aiku puts a hand on his shoulder, slides it up the side of his neck, cups his cheek. Leans in. 

“Don’t kiss me,” Barou says quickly, chin jerking up and away from Aiku’s hand. 

Aiku freezes, hand outstretched. “Any particular reason?”

Barou looks down his nose at him, lip curling. “There are at least 700 different species of bacteria in the human mouth. Probably 700,000 if we’re talking about your mouth.”

Aiku’s lips part, then he says, “Well, I gargled extra just for you.”

“I said no.” Barou keeps his lips pressed tight together, preventing even a hint of amusement from showing. Aiku needs no encouragement.

“Okay, okay,” Aiku says, posture relaxing as he tilts his head. “You’re kinda limiting my options, Barou-chan.”

Maybe Barou should stick to people like Tsukasa, people who will never question him, who worship him. Or maybe he should chase after people like Isagi, who will push and push and push until Barou breaks—or at least how he imagines Isagi would, usually with a hand on his cock. 

Aiku’s not like that, though. He never pushes past the point of resistance, preferring instead to make space for Barou to step into. He didn’t make Barou agree to go to the onsen, he waited on the curb with a taxi at the promised time. He’s done that kind of thing countless times. What’s Barou supposed to do with a guy like that?

“I was hoping you’d reply with some things you do actually want,” Aiku points out, breaking an awkward silence Barou hadn’t even noticed. 

Barou lets out a short breath, meeting Aiku’s eyes with measured resentment. He can’t believe he’s actually considering this. “You want to kiss me?”

Aiku’s gaze flickers down to his lips, then back up. “I mean. Yeah. Definitely.”

“For what? Why?” 

“It’s hot, for one,” Aiku says matter-of-factly. “Erotic. You know, we don’t have to French kiss. I can keep my mouth shut.”

Barou snorts. “Can you? I’d love to see that.”

Aiku shuts his mouth, lips demonstratively pressed together. He flourishes a hand at his own mouth in clear invitation. Irritation blooms warm in Barou’s chest. 

“Fine,” Barou says. “Come here.”

He nearly changes his mind at Aiku’s suddenly smug expression, but he closes the distance too quickly for Barou to truly become annoyed. Aiku pauses before fully kissing him, though, even with both hands on Barou’s cheeks. He keeps looking from Barou’s eyes to his mouth and back, checking and rechecking to make sure Barou isn’t about to stop him again. 

Barou doesn’t stop him. 

He wouldn’t call it erotic, necessarily. Aiku’s lips are soft when pressed against his. Aiku’s sparse scruff scratches his skin and he can feel each warm exhale of breath, how Aiku’s fingertips pet down his jawline. Aiku’s eyes flutter shut, and Barou looks off to the side at nothing in particular, hands still shoved in his pockets. If Barou’s being generous, he’d describe it as nice. Maybe even pleasant, although any arousal he feels is just due to Aiku’s proximity, not from the kiss. 

Aiku pulls away after a moment, looking at him from under lowered lashes. “Barou-chan, don’t you want to touch me?”

Barou, who’d been zoning out rather pleasantly, has to stop himself from flinching with surprise. He’d nearly forgotten this was a two way street, and it’s not like he ever really wanted to touch Tsukasa… Aiku, though. His mind helpfully reminds him of Aiku in the locker room with spread legs, Aiku’s muscled back under his hands, Aiku relaxing in the onsen, wet skin gleaming in under muted lights, and Barou swallows hard. 

“What happened to keeping your mouth shut,” Barou grumbles, but doesn’t hesitate to take his prize as Aiku kisses him again.

His hands go to Aiku’s waist first, squeezing slightly just to feel how nicely solid his core is. Barou knows it from training against him, how running into Aiku feels like hitting a damn brick wall—but it’s different to hold him like this.

Aiku moans softly, forehead resting against Barou’s. Barou shuts his eyes and focuses on how Aiku’s obliques feel under his hands, then his lower lats, following each swell of muscle as he makes his way up to Aiku’s traps, his delts. Only then does he realize he’s practically embracing Aiku, that Aiku is fully pressed against him, that his mouth has slipped from Barou’s and now rests against his cheek, lips parted, breathing warm and heavy against Barou’s skin. 

“Tired of kissing?” Barou remarks. Aiku stirs, but doesn’t pull away.

“Tired of holding back,” Aiku says. Barou can feel his smile, his scruff scraping against his cheek. Barou makes a questioning noise, and Aiku explains, “from shoving my tongue down your throat, Barou-chan.”

Barou shudders, but not from disgust, although disgust is all he should feel right now. Instead, Aiku’s unfiltered desire overtakes anything else Barou is thinking, and maybe kissing like that is worth it if Aiku wants it so badly.

“Shut up,” Barou mumbles, pulling Aiku even closer. He likes having Aiku’s massive body in his arms and feeling all that strength up close and personal. He likes knowing Aiku’s fully focused on him. Barou is hard enough now to feel with unmerciful clarity the exact places his cock rubs up against Aiku’s front, how every little shift sends a throb of arousal through his groin and he can’t quite hide the soft intakes of breath he makes each time it happens.

Aiku responds with a pleased hum, his hands slipping behind Barou’s neck to tangle in his hair. Even the lightest tug feels intense on Barou’s sensitive scalp, pleasure sparking and twisting down his spine. He groans out loud before he can stop himself. 

“That was hot,” Aiku tells him, tugging again, “you like having your hair played with?”

Barou can’t even think. He doesn’t let people play with his fucking hair, and the only ones who have touched it before are his sisters doing stupid shit like braiding it and tying it up in ribbons and bows. Nothing that ever felt like this. He lets out a shuddering breath, back arching as he instinctively tries to rut against Aiku’s front. 

Then Aiku gets a better grip and holds Barou’s skull in place, pulling away enough to look him dead in the eyes. It’s—it’s controlling, and Barou freezes up. Rage flickers in around the edges of all that pleasure, but Aiku’s expression is just sincere and inquisitive. If there was even a hint of smug superiority, Barou would’ve started a fight. 

“I wanna know if you like it,” Aiku reminds him. Barou bares his teeth, and gets a kiss to the corner of his mouth for his efforts. “Barou-chan,” Aiku asks, “does it feel good?”

Every time Barou tries to move his head, that tugging sensation is back, making him shiver, making his cock perk up and rub against Aiku’s hip. Even through the layers of fabric, the friction is acute. He hates feeling even slightly out of control, hates knowing that Aiku’s always fucking in control. Even on the field Aiku’s never off balance, never too thrown to react to a play. Control or not, Barou’s no liar. 

“Yes,” Barou finally hisses, because it does feel really fucking good.

“Do you want me to stop?” Aiku asks, nosing at his cheek. Barou’s cock kicks again. There Aiku goes, somehow always skirting just around the edge of pushing Barou too far. 

“No,” Barou manages to say, digging his fingers into the muscle of Aiku’s back. 

“Mm. Good.” Aiku leans back down to kiss along his jaw, fingertips rubbing against the back of Barou’s skull when not pulling on his hair. Barou’s head tips back until it hits the wall, and he lets it all wash over him. He doesn’t think he could bear letting anyone else do this, to kiss down the side of his neck, at the hollow of his collarbone, to hold him this close and slowly roll his body against Barou’s. He’s not quite sure why he can stand it with Aiku.

It still becomes overwhelming. 

Barou shoves Aiku away with a grunt, chest heaving, cock rock hard and tenting the front of his sweats like a flag of surrender. Aiku doesn’t even look upset about it, just backs off and stares steadily at Barou, lips parted, like he’s waiting for the inevitable invitation to come right back. 

Barou runs a hand over his face, taking a slow, calming breath. He tells Aiku, “you can suck me off, now.”

Aiku blinks once. “Huh?”

“What?” Barou asks irritably, heading for the bed and sitting down heavily. Aiku trails after him, looking mystified. 

“Nothing, just y’know, no foreplay? Just gonna snap your fingers and have me drop to my knees?”

Well. That’s how Barou’s always done it. If he’d stopped to think about it—if he’d been able to think about anything at all—he’d have remembered most people would probably ease into it more. He’s certain Aiku usually does. He clenches his jaw. 

“Are you saying you won’t?” Barou challenges. 

Aiku’s smile returns. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he says, walking over to stand between Barou’s knees. Barou relaxes, leaning back on his hands. He’s coming to appreciate how easily Aiku breezes past the various faux pas that Barou makes and never cares to correct, but everyone else seems to get so hung up on. 

Aiku bends down, puts his hands on Barou’s shoulders, and kisses him on the mouth again. Briefly. Barou tries not to feel disappointed about it when Aiku moves on, hands trailing down Barou’s chest, his abs, to settle at his hips when he eases to his knees. 

“I like—” Barou begins, then stops in outrage when Aiku pinches his hip. 

“Let me do my thing,” Aiku says, looking up at him all starry-eyed. Barou’s stomach turns over. 

“It had better be good,” he grumbles, and Aiku grins. 

“It’ll blow your mind.”

Barou rolls his eyes, but lets Aiku push his knees apart without complaint. He stares at the ceiling because watching Aiku touch him feels overwhelming again, and it’s already intense enough just feeling Aiku’s hands slide firmly up his thighs to his groin, framing his cock. Palming his cock through his sweats, rubbing it, touching his balls, on and on until Barou can’t help but try and push into the feeling. 

“That’s it,” Aiku murmurs, and Barou chances a look down. Aiku meets his gaze, and for some reason he’s surprised to see how… eager Aiku looks. Excited, almost, like grabbing Barou’s cock through his pants his favorite fucking hobby. 

Aiku tugs at his sweats. “Let’s get these off, handsome.”

“Handsome,” Barou huffs, but still lifts his hips so Aiku can pull the rest of his clothes off. 

Aiku frees Barou’s feet from his pant legs, then says, “Yep. You’re unbearably good-looking, you know that?”

“So?” Barou is concerned about his image insofar that it projects what’s important about him—perfection, superiority, strength. He doesn’t give a shit if people think it’s hot or not. 

“And somehow it’s even hotter that you don’t even care,” Aiku sighs dreamily. “God, you have a nice cock.”

“Shut up,” Barou says weakly. He doesn’t care what people think of how he looks, except that Aiku’s admiration feels undeniably good. 

“Never have, never will,” Aiku murmurs, but Barou’s not listening anymore since Aiku finally is touching him properly. Barou nearly bites through his tongue when Aiku encircles his cock with a firm fist, running it slowly up his shaft, then down. Barou’s eyes roll back at the sweet friction, the feeling of his foreskin pulling back over the intensely sensitive head of his cock—almost too sensitive, but Aiku seems to know not to touch it directly, yet. 

Maybe letting Aiku have his way just this once was the right call. His legs begin to tremble when Aiku’s other hand teases around his foreskin, fingertips rubbing just under the head of his cock, unrelenting but still never too much. 

Aiku is saying things that Barou doesn’t even try to process. It’s all drivel anyway, things about how pretty his cock is, how it’s perfect, how Barou himself is sexy, what a gorgeous face he has, et cetera. Rightful praise, but wasted on him when Barou struggles to think past his swelling erection. 

He can’t remember the last time his cock felt so hard, and Aiku hasn’t even used his mouth yet. If Barou knew it was going to be this good, maybe he would’ve asked more nicely. 

“You’re leaking everywhere,” Aiku remarks, which Barou also ignores, even if he can feel the slick truth of it from how Aiku’s hand drags precome down from his slit to wet the rest of his cock. “I gotta taste you,” Aiku adds. 

Barou’s eyes shoot open, and that’s all the warning he gets before Aiku sucks the head of his cock into his mouth with a happy hum. Barou yelps, flushes at how undignified it sounded, then forces himself still when Aiku puts a bracing hand on his hip. 

He pops off his cock with a wet noise. “Doing okay, handsome?”

Barou looks down at him through narrowed eyes, struggling to catch his breath. “Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he snarls, and gets a bright smile in reply. 

“More than okay, I see.” Aiku taps on his hip once, then bows his head again. Barou sees stars when Aiku licks up his frenulum, over his slit, then finally takes him fully inside his mouth. Wet, hot, perfect—Barou’s toes flex and curl, his hands grip the edge of the mattress. 

He feels the finish build all too quickly. He hardly cares; it feels too good to care about anything at all. Then Aiku slows, stops, lets Barou’s cock fall from his mouth as he looks up. Lashes lowered, mouth wet, eyes fucking smoldering—Aiku’s a vision when he’s sucking cock. If he remembers nothing else from tonight, Barou wants to remember this. 

“Told you not to stop,” he rasps. He’s surprised he can form words at all. 

Aiku pets his hip affectionately. “I could finish you off now,” he agrees, “or I can keep this up a while longer. Promise I won’t edge you painfully.”

“Edge—painfully?”

“Unless you want me to,” Aiku says, head cocked. “I just want to see how nice and wound up I can get you. It’ll feel good, Barou-chan.”

Barou’s cock twitches in Aiku’s grip. Who is he kidding? Whatever part of him wants to cling to his remaining dignity falls to the part of him that wants to take, take, and take some more, to glut himself on power and victory and—and pleasure, for tonight. 

“Aiku,” Barou says faintly. 

“Hm?”

“You can do what you want.” It comes out more gruffly than he meant it to, but Aiku seems to understand anyway.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Aiku promises, which is enough for Barou. Aiku always comes through, despite his various character flaws—absurdly, Barou’s come to trust him. 

It’s the reason he lets this happen, chin resting on his chest as he watches Aiku take his cock deeper, all the way down his throat, so excruciatingly, perfectly tight that Barou doesn’t even hide his moan. Aiku’s eyes flit up to his, then back down. He’s beginning to look flushed, too. 

Aiku is as good as his word. He works Barou close to the edge several more times, never so close that slowing the pace is uncomfortable. Instead, pleasure grows like a rising tide, ebbing and flowing according to Aiku’s will, until Barou feels flooded with it, like one more drop might drown him, might destroy the last levees holding him together. 

“Aiku,” Barou gasps, “it’s—fuck—”

“Wanna cum soon?” Aiku’s words are muffled by Barou’s cock on his lips, and his voice sounds hoarse. 

Barou traps please behind his teeth, and groans instead. He grits out, “Soon. Fuck, Aiku. Fuck.” 

“Told you I was good,” Aiku smirks. When Barou growls, Aiku just says, “That’s it, let it all out. Love hearing you. Hang on a little longer for me, okay?”

Barou nods shortly, eyes locked on Aiku’s mouth, shivering when he resumes the blowjob. Regardless of what Aiku had said, he’s past the point of caring to keep quiet. He’s moaning when Aiku sucks him down to the hilt, cursing at the suppressed pulse of his gag reflex, gasping and panting. Every breath feels heavy, every inch of his cock feels like heaven, everything feels fucking incredible. His cock is pure pleasure, everywhere Aiku touches is pure pleasure, a feeling that leeches through the rest of his body. 

“I’m gonna,” Barou warns raggedly, “gonna cum, Aiku,”

Aiku nods slightly, easing off his cock. 

“Hey,” Barou practically yells, feeling betrayed. Aiku had promised not to edge him painfully, and—

“Didn’t know if,” Aiku says quickly, fragmented, “my mouth, you said before—”

“I said don’t stop!” Barou all but yells, a frantic noise that turns into gasp as Aiku quickly takes his cock back inside his mouth. The pleasure feels all the more intense for the pause, and Barou doesn’t think before reaching to grab Aiku’s head and shoving him roughly down the length of his cock. He can tell Aiku is struggling not to gag, and he doesn’t even care. His cock throbs powerfully, once, twice, and he comes with a wrecked groan. 

Aiku’s hand grips his thighs hard, but he doesn’t fight against Barou’s hold, just takes it all down his throat, swallowing around Barou’s cock with perfect obedience. Barou feels dizzy with satisfaction, high on pleasure and quickly growing afterglow. It’s a flood of dopamine that even he can’t resist. 

He doesn’t like it, normally, feeling so irrepressibly good. But with Aiku’s broad shoulders wedged between his legs, Aiku’s lips wrapped warm around the base of his cock, the way Aiku looks almost awed when his eyes flit up to Barou’s… Barou can stand it more easily. 

Aiku lets his cock soften in his mouth, then pulls off slowly. He gives Barou a slow smile before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Barou, inexplicably, wants to kiss him, to push his tongue past Aiku’s lips just like he had his cock, to get as close to him as possible. Barou shivers slightly. God, his neurochemistry is so fucked right now. 

“Barou?” Aiku’s voice is soft, his hand on Barou’s thigh is soft. 

“Come up here,” Barou orders. It comes out as a hoarse whisper. Aiku obeys, looking a little wary as he rises on his knees. Barou bends down, hands still in Aiku’s hair. 

Barou still wants to kiss him, he’s now close enough to do it, and Aiku is sitting right here and looking more wary by the second. Barou holds him in place, sluggishly warring with himself through afterglow. His cock was just in that mouth. His cock might actually be cleaner than Aiku’s mouth, now that he thinks about it. He’d cum down Aiku’s throat, so he probably won’t even taste his own spend. Still, revulsion squirms in his stomach. 

“You wanted me to come up here and…” Aiku prompts, realizing Barou’s stalled out. Barou’s grip tightens in Aiku’s hair. Aiku’s eyelids flutter as he allows Barou to manhandle him, so permissive despite being so strong.

Barou gives in to the ravenous part of him that wants more and more, no matter how much he gets—tonight, he wants more of Aiku. So he takes it, closing the distance to press their lips together. 

Through great force of will, he ignores how wet Aiku’s mouth still is. French kissing, Aiku had called it. Revolting to think about, revolting to watch, but to do it himself? Barou parts his lips just slightly, nearly disassociating as he just barely runs his tongue against the seam of Aiku’s mouth. If Aiku says some smartass comment now, or possibly if he says anything at all, Barou’s going to leave and get a motel room in another city. 

But Aiku doesn’t say anything, just mirrors Barou’s movements only a heartbeat later. His only indication of surprise is his grip on Barou’s thigh, the flex of his hand. And then Aiku’s tongue touches his, and Barou badly suppresses a shudder. It’s even wetter, even if it doesn’t taste like much. 

Fuck him, but he still wants more. Aiku mirrors this too, letting Barou angle their heads as he pleases, lick into his mouth at his own rate, reciprocating in kind. It takes all of Barou’s attention, and maybe that’s why it’s good—when the only thing he’s aware of is where their mouths touch, when Aiku fills his senses so completely it begins to sate that need to be impossibly close. A distant part of him knows they’re fully making out now, that Barou has Aiku’s head grasped in both hands as he kisses him deeply, that his mind is fuzzy with afterglow and satisfaction.  

The faint noises of kissing are soon joined by soft moans, then a louder groan that Barou realizes is coming from Aiku, a sound of pleasure made straight into his mouth. Surprised, Barou pulls away to see Aiku looking up at him, eyes unfocused, lips parted, and… one hand down the front of his pants, very clearly jacking himself off. 

“Come back, keep kissing me,” Aiku pleads. 

“What are you doing?”

“Getting off,” Aiku says, continuing to stroke himself. “Come on, kissing you gets me so hot. You liked it, right?”

Barou frowns at him, trying to identify why he’s annoyed. 

“Quit that,” he says instead, pulling Aiku’s hand from his pants. The pretty, hazy look in Aiku’s eyes is quickly replaced by annoyance, which Barou absurdly finds refreshing. It’s rare to see such unfiltered emotion on Aiku’s face.

“If you’re not gonna let me get off, I’m gonna go do it somewhere else,” Aiku says testily. The tent in his briefs is frankly impressive. 

Barou wipes his mouth, stretches his jaw, and straightens up a bit to properly look down on him. “Quit putting words in my mouth, jackass,” he says. “Is this how you really wanna get off? You don’t want me to do shit for you?”

“Well, I liked when you were kissing me,” Aiku sulks.

“Good. You should.” Barou lets out a breath, mouth quirking as he considers Aiku. “Now, tell me what you want. Whatever you want the most, while I’m still in a good mood.”

Sulking or not, Aiku immediately meets his eyes and says, “I wanna fuck you.” 

“Something I’d actually let happen tonight,” Barou amends drily, no matter that his spent cock is gamely trying to resurrect. Being so clearly desired works for him, apparently. 

Aiku’s eyes widen, like he’s finally realizing what’s being offered. Then he smiles, runs his hand down Barou’s thigh. “Oh, Barou-chan, how you spoil me. If I could do anything…. Hm.” He looks over Barou’s body with clear appreciation, taking his time before he finally says, “I wanna fuck your tits.”

Barou tries to stop his incredulous laugh, and it ends up sounding like a cough. “What tits?”

Wrong question. Both of Aiku’s hands go to his chest immediately. Barou jolts at the sudden touch, but Aiku only cups his pecs gently as he looks up at Barou with soulful eyes. “These ones, sweetheart. They’re so nice. I bet they’d feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

Barou’s face feels hot, but, strictly speaking, it’s not the most objectionable thing Aiku could suggest. “I think you’re delusional,” he says. “You should quit doing headers before the brain damage is permanent.”

Aiku laughs, squeezing slightly. “No, no, your tits are plenty big. I’ve done it to girls with way smaller racks than yours, anyway. So, can I? Pretty please?”

Barou opens his mouth to say something derisive, but Aiku picks that moment to rub his thumbs over his nipples. Barou’s mind fizzles out into static, luckily for Aiku, who otherwise would be in grave danger. Still, he has been treating Barou exceedingly well tonight. Barou rolls his eyes up at the ceiling, not wanting to see Aiku’s smug fucking face when he agrees to it. 

“Fine,” Barou grunts, “and quit fondling me like a lecherous old man while you’re at it.”

“Uh-oh,” Aiku says, pinching at Barou’s nipples, “keep making those kinda jokes and I might actually stop.”

Barou grits his teeth. “Shut up. You know I don’t mean it.”

“Now I do!” Aiku sounds happy, and he pinches Barou’s nipples extra hard. Barou yelps, more from surprise than any pain. “And that was for calling me old,” Aiku says unapologetically, then goes back to the gentle circles he’d been doing before. 

Barou struggles to think straight. “That’s the part you had a problem with? Not being called a creep?”

“Anywaaay, go lie on your back and get all comfy,” Aiku says breezily as he steps out of his briefs. 

He waits until Barou has comfortably arranged himself before straddling his chest with broad thighs. He settles right in, flexible enough to spread his knees wide to allow him to rest his genitals flush against Barou’s sternum. 

“Now go like this.” Aiku pushes his pecs together, creating his own fairly impressive line of cleavage. Barou glares at him for a moment, but Aiku doesn’t back down so he sighs and does it anyway. Aiku pats one of his pecs and says, “Relax all that muscle, honey. Not trying to fuck two boulders.”

”You’re pushing your luck,” Barou growls, even though he does make himself relax. He can see Aiku’s point; flexed, his chest is rock-solid muscle. Like this, though, the tissue is pliable enough to form cleavage that rivals Aiku’s. 

Aiku makes an appreciative noise, shuffling forward to push his cock into the crease. Barou looks up at the ceiling and thinks about how he never second-guesses himself and maybe now is the time to change that because what the actual hell is he doing? Just laying back while Aiku rubs his nasty cock all over his chest? 

He considers just trying to zone out until Aiku’s done, but that seems so deeply cowardly Barou rejects the thought as soon as he has it. If he doesn’t like what Aiku’s doing, he’ll make him stop. Simple as that.

Barou looks back to Aiku and takes in the sight; there’s plenty to look at. Aiku has one hand planted on the wall above Barou’s head, the other on his chest, covering the top of his cock and keeping it pushed deep between Barou’s pecs. 

Aiku is finally naked, and now Barou can see the full power of his body, honed muscle working in perfect sync as Aiku ruts against him. Barou has a front row view to each flex and fold of Aiku’s abs, how his thighs are heavy against the sides of his torso, and even the pink head of Aiku’s cock as his foreskin pulls back with each thrust. 

Barou likes it, god fucking damn it.

Aiku had said kissing was erotic, but Barou thinks this is a thousand times more so. If he hadn’t just orgasmed, he’d be trying to stoke his own cock just to the sight of it. He already knows he’s going to be imagining this, exactly this, every time he gets himself off for the foreseeable future. 

Aiku, who had clearly started slow, begins to get more into it. He leans more weight on Barou’s chest, each roll of his hips accompanied by a breathless noise of pleasure. 

Barou lays there and watches, feeling his spent cock twitch over and over as his arousal rises right alongside Aiku’s. 

“This is so sexy,” Aiku tells him breathlessly. Barou remembers to look at his face, tearing his eyes away from Aiku’s happy trail just to be hit with his expression of pure lust, those mismatched eyes dark, his hair hanging in wavy curtains around his face. Far, far too attractive. 

“Your tits are perfect, Barou-chan,” Aiku pants, working up the pace, “feels so good, I don’t want it to be over. Could fuck these forever and die happy.” Barou snorts, and Aiku adds, “I won’t though, don’t worry, I won’t take too long.”

“Don’t rush, jackass,” Barou sneers. Aiku pauses, frowns, apparently unable to think when his dick is hard. “I said, take your fuckin’ time,” Barou says impatiently. 

“Ah, it’s okay,” Aiku says a little breathlessly—he resumes thrusting between Barou’s pecs, even if he’s moving more slowly. “You’re already putting up with so much.”

“Hah? I don’t put up with jack shit,” Barou snaps, trying to get up on his elbows to properly yell at Aiku. He fails, though, underestimating just how heavy Aiku is, and falls back onto the mattress with an irritable huff. 

“No?” Aiku asks. He doesn’t sound upset about being scolded; if anything, he looks even more fucked-out with his lips parted, thighs practically trembling around Barou’s torso. 

Barou rolls his eyes, but admits, “This isn’t that bad. You’re… attractive. Worth watching.”

Aiku actually does stop after that, patting Barou’s cheek briefly. “You don’t say? That makes me happy, Barou-chan.”

“Ugh.” Barou turns his head away, and Aiku puts his hand back on Barou’s chest. 

“You’re just a big sweetheart, aren’t you,” Aiku coos, readjusting himself. 

“I am not.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Aiku grins down at him. “Well, I’m gonna take my time, then. Gotta make sure you get to enjoy giving me a titjob,” Aiku nods to himself like he’s being generous. 

“I’d enjoy it more if you’d shut up,” Barou growls. 

“No, you wouldn’t.” Aiku’s right, so Barou doesn’t bother correcting him and just pushes his tits—his pecs back together so Aiku can get back to work. 

Aiku keeps the pace slower, this time. He draws out each movement like he’s savoring every second, and his heavy breaths are interspersed with praise, or other babbled nonsense about how good it feels, how handsome or sexy Barou is, how great his tits feel, or how hard his cock is. The guy obviously gets off on listening to himself, but it’s not unpleasant background noise. 

The rhythmic back and forth of Aiku’s body is almost hypnotizing. Watching him, Barou can’t help but think of all the power behind those hips, that muscled core. He bets Aiku is a great lay, when he puts the effort in. Sanitary concerns aside, it’s far too easy to imagine Aiku’s cock in other parts of Barou’s body. Aiku would be strong enough to fuck him properly. Even with Barou on top, Aiku could probably still drive his hips up and into him for hours. 

Fuck, is Barou getting hard again?

Sex is strictly disgusting, in Barou’s opinion, but he’s also an eighteen-year-old male with probably far higher than average testosterone levels. He wants sex even more than he had back when Tsukasa was there to satisfy his needs, and he’s gone so long without touch of any kind. It had been so convenient to pull Tsukasa aside, have him suck down Barou’s cock, slide a gloved finger up Barou’s ass and work his prostate from the inside—nothing felt better, and Barou is only satisfied with the best. 

Barou’s never going to put a single part of his body in anyone’s asshole, but if his partner is fine with properly sanitizing their fingers or cock or whatever else, it’s not his problem. 

“Barou-chan, I can’t hold back much longer,” Aiku says hoarsely, pulling Barou back into the moment. Barou is hardly surprised; even if his mind was drifting, he could feel how Aiku was moving slower and slower, his groans getting louder with each push of his cock between Barou’s tits, like even the smallest movements felt unbearably good.

“And?” Barou asks. 

“I want to cum,” Aiku says, “fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard, Barou—”

“If you get any on my face, I’ll kill you,” Barou snarls. 

“Nnng, I won’t, promise. Can you—can I ask—”

“What do you want?” Barou asks sharply. 

“Just keep talking to me,” Aiku practically begs. He starts moving again, groaning as he ruts hard against Barou’s sternum. 

“About what?”

“Talk dirty,” Aiku says. “Love how you talk.”

”The fuck do you mean, jackass?” 

Aiku’s stomach flexes as he shudders and groans, “Fuck, baby, just like that. So hot when you yell at me.”

“Oh, you’re a freak,” Barou says, unable to keep the derision out of his voice. 

“Yeah, yeah I am, that’s so sexy Barou-chan, keep going.” Aiku’s pace speeds up now, like he can’t properly control it, which is hot enough Barou doesn’t even complain about the precome leaking onto his clavicles. 

“Something’s wrong with you,” Barou growls. 

“You’re so right, you’re so hot, makin’ me go all crazy over your fat tits,” Aiku babbles. He’s really going for it now, rising up enough to plant more weight in the hand on Barou’s chest, thrusting through the small opening like he’s really trying to fuck someone, and fuck them hard. Each movement pushes Barou back a few inches on the mattress, until the top of his head is pushing against the wall, albeit cushioned by a few pillows. 

“Filthy fucking mouth,” Barou tells Aiku, thinking of how Aiku’s mouth had swallowed down his cock. Speaking of it makes arousal flash through him again, and maybe he is getting the hang of dirty talk.

“Yeah, yes, Barou-chan, yes,” Aiku pants. “I can’t, I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum all over your tits, oh my god,” Aiku stutters, stilling for a moment. Barou can actually feel Aiku’s balls drawn up tight against the bottom of his pecs, can feel each pronounced throb of his cock as he falls over the edge. 

Barou can also feel the hot spurt of cum running wet down his chest, towards his throat, and he freezes.

Aiku starts cursing in an odd mix of pleasure and panic, fumbling for a moment before grabbing several tissues from the bedside table and wiping up the threatening runnel of cum. He then presses the wad of tissue over the head of his cock, relaxes with a throaty groan, and then keeps fucking cumming. Barou can feel each pulse of it, he can even feel the tissues becoming wet and saturated as Aiku works through the rest of his orgasm. 

He looks at Barou afterwards, giving him a sleepy smile. “That was amazing. Didja have fun, Barou-chan?” he asks. 

“It was acceptable,” Barou says graciously, “and now we’re going to go shower.”

“I wanna chill first,” Aiku whines. Barou’s skin crawls with the knowledge there’s almost certainly still sperm on him, but Aiku is pulling open a drawer and showing Barou a box of sanitizing body wipes. “Look what I got!”

Surprised, Barou’s jaw drops. 

“I’m always prepared,” Aiku tells him, winking. “Here, I’ll clean you up.”

Aiku smooths the cool wet wipe over Barou’s chest. He does a thorough job, even cleaning himself afterwards with a fresh wipe. Barou relaxes. He even lets Aiku settle down next to him, resting his fluffy head on Barou’s shoulder and throwing a leg over his hips. 

Cuddling. 

Barou pushes his arm under Aiku’s neck, then wraps it around his shoulders. Cuddling, something Barou was never interested in, yet now that he’s got Aiku wrapped around him he can understand why people like it so much. Aiku nuzzles at his neck, making sleepy, happy noises, probably just as lost in his afterglow as Barou had been earlier. 

Barou absentmindedly plays with Aiku’s hair as he waits for him to be ready to shower. Aiku keeps touching him, hand tracing over his chest, clavicles, his stomach, like now that he’s gotten this close, he can’t help but take full advantage. 

“Barou-chan,” Aiku eventually says, rising up enough to look Barou in the face. 

“Mhm?” 

“I really enjoyed this,” Aiku says softly. His hand traces up the side of Barou’s neck, down his jawline. “Was it just me?”

Barou gives him a look. “No. That should be obvious.”

Aiku gives him a hopeful smile. “Can we do this again? Sooner rather than later, preferably.”

Ah. Barou lets his head fall back to the pillow and he looks back to the ceiling. He doesn’t want to think about this, even if he already knows the answer. 

“No,” he says quietly. “It’s a bad idea.” He isn’t looking at Aiku, but he can hear the disappointment and confusion in his voice. 

“O-oh. Okay. Why not?”

Barou shuts his eyes. “I don’t share, Aiku.”

“You don’t want me to sleep around,” Aiku says. Barou opens his eyes and looks at Aiku. 

“I don’t care what you do,” he says. “It’s not my problem. It will become my problem if we do this again, though.”

“Alright, I get it,” Aiku says, and leans in, kissing Barou’s cheek. “So… tomorrow morning doesn’t count, right? ‘Cause it’s really just part of tonight, not like a second, different time.”

Barou jerks himself up into a sitting position and grabs Aiku’s chin, enjoying his look of surprise. “Think you’re fuckin’ sly, don’t you?”

Aiku’s chin dips as he rests the weight of his head in Barou’s grip. “Oh, no, you’ve caught me red-handed. Now you’re gonna know how bad I want to fuck you again. A tragedy. I was trying to keep it a secret.”

Barou presses his lips together, refusing to laugh at Aiku’s antics. He does follow his instincts, though, and kisses Aiku briefly. 

“Tomorrow morning doesn’t count,” Barou says, his voice gravelly. “Nor does whatever you’re about to try and pull in the shower.”

Aiku visibly perks up. “Oh?”

Barou lets him go, pleased with himself. Now who’s sly? “Better shower soon, before I’m too tired to put up with you,” Barou intones, and Aiku all but scrambles out of bed. 

Showering with Aiku here in the hotel’s private bathrooms is even better than the onsen. Barou doesn’t mind that they kiss in the shower some more, or that Aiku teases his cock until he’s hard again, or that he holds Barou close, both their cocks in his grip as they frot against each other. Easy clean up, too. Almost perfect. 

Barou finds himself exceptionally mellow after this, letting Aiku wash them both off. Aiku apparently retains information well, barely needing any instruction from Barou to meet his standards. 

“I miss anything?” Aiku eventually asks. They’ve been in the shower long enough that it’s starting to cool down, their fingertips wrinkling. 

“No,” Barou murmurs. “Guess you’re not entirely useless.”

Aiku reaches out, brushing a strand of long hair from Barou’s cheek, tucking it behind his ear. “All this praise is going to my head,” he says. His fingers linger behind Barou’s ear. “I’m starting to think you might like me.”

Like Aiku? Barou hasn’t thought of it in so many words, but he knows that it’s true. He tolerates far more from Aiku than anyone else. Aiku has proved himself a thousand times over—proved to be an excellent soccer player, an excellent teammate, someone who always has Barou’s back. Barou takes Aiku’s hand, gently removes it from his head, then shuts off the water. 

“I do like you,” Barou says, opening the shower door, “you couldn't tell?”

He hands Aiku a clean towel, which falls to the floor from Aiku's unresponsive hand—Aiku is still just standing there, apparently completely speechless. Barou picks the towel up and grabs a fresh one, feeling unimpressed while he waits for Aiku’s brain to start working again. Aiku finally shakes his head, laughing slightly as he accepts the offered towel. 

“Well, I kinda figured, since you let me do all that,” Aiku says, muffled as he roughly towels off his hair. Barou plugs in the hair dryer for himself. Aiku says, “Never thought I’d hear you say it out loud, though.”

Barou scoffs. “Bet you didn’t think I’d let you fuck my tits, either. Don’t underestimate me.”

Aiku barks out a laugh, and Barou switches the hair dryer on high, noise overriding whatever nonsense Aiku was about to say. 

He falls asleep with Aiku curled against his side. He minds it less than he thought he would.

Notes:

thank you everyone so much for your comments and kudos!! it really means the world, i love hearing your thoughts so much :D im blowing you all so so so so many kisses <33

it's entirely possible barou is a little touch-starved, but it's not HIS fault his options have been like 200 gross teen boys for the greater part of the last year

in this fic, it's pretty clear that aiku and barou just legitimately like each other on a very base level, which was very refreshing for me to write & something i really love about them. THANKFULLY they are so extremely different that there is still more than enough tension for me to feast on. so many things can go wrong :D

Chapter 3: easy cum easy go

Notes:

karasu!!

this chapters a little shorter but i probably will upload the next one sooner this time :D

Aiku’s there when he wakes up, too. They’d separated over the course of the night, and now Aiku is sprawled diagonally across the bed, chest uncovered, legs thrown over Barou’s. He looks more innocent asleep, face peaceful, thick lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. More innocent, but still so handsome—even while asleep and fully relaxed, Barou can see the line of his neck muscle, his sharp jawline, his muscled arms wrapped around a pillow. 

He wakes once Barou sits up and stretches luxuriously. Despite getting less sleep than normal, Barou feels remarkably well-rested. The day after sex always feels good. Maybe he should seek out someone else for regular relief, even if it’s not from Aiku.

Aiku’s eyes open narrowly, and his jaw pops slightly as he yawns. 

“Morning, handsome,” Aiku murmurs, rolling over to reattach himself to Barou’s side. Barou grunts but allows it, feeling less permissive than the night before yet still relatively mellow. 

“I’m getting up,” Barou warns him. “It’s nearly seven, so I’m already late for my morning workout.”

“But Barou-chan,” Aiku whines, “we were gonna do stuff this morning.”

“Should have woken up sooner, then,” Barou says heartlessly, though he doesn’t move to get out of bed. He doesn’t stop Aiku’s hand from wandering down his abs, either, or down between his legs. 

“Guess we should get out of bed, then,” Aiku says somberly, cupping Barou’s balls, gently rolling them between his fingers. Fuck, Barou’s still sensitive from last night, and arousal makes his limbs feel heavy. He sinks back into the mattress. 

“Make it worth my time,” Barou directs him and spreads his legs. Aiku wakes up quickly then, flashing Barou a smile before bending towards his crotch. Round two with Aiku’s mouth… it’s almost as good as the first time, but Aiku doesn’t drag it out as long. Barou keeps a hand on Aiku’s back, eyes shut as he breathes heavily, memorizing every sensation. He may have decided not to sleep with Aiku again, but he’s going to wring out every ounce of pleasure that he can from this.

Aiku swallows everything when Barou comes, a clean finish. 

“How about you?” Barou asks. He doesn’t need to see it to know Aiku is getting hard already. Aiku settles down next to him again, nuzzling Barou’s shoulder.

“You up for a handjob? I want you to touch me.”

Barou doesn’t answer, just pulls Aiku into the position he wants. He hasn’t given a handjob before, either, outside of holding Tsukasa’s cock and letting him rut into his grip—Barou wasn’t completely selfish. But he wants to give Aiku more than that, so he doesn’t hesitate to take Aiku’s cock in hand, giving it a nice, firm stroke like he’d do to himself. 

“Oh, Barou-chan,” Aiku breathes out, pushing his face into Barou’s neck. “Feels so good already.”

“You’re easy,” Barou remarks, gently rubbing over the head of Aiku’s cock with his thumb—also something Barou does to himself. 

“Easy for you,” Aiku says. 

Barou scoffs, still playing with Aiku’s cock. “Are you difficult for anyone?”

“Mm, I can’t think when you do that,” Aiku groans softly. “How come you’re so good at this?”

“It’s not that difficult, Aiku,” Barou says with amusement. Aiku’s rock hard in his hand, now leaking precome all over his fingers. The knowledge of body wipes on the nightstand makes it tolerable. 

Aiku moans softly, hips twitching like he wants to fuck against Barou’s hand but is stopping himself. Maybe he wants Barou to keep doing all the work, which Barou is fine with. He likes the control it gives him, having Aiku in hand like this. 

“Extra-easy for you, then,” Aiku sighs. His cock throbs. “Everything you do to me feels so good, King-chan. How will I live without this?”

“Easily. You will proposition the next person you see and then let a bunch of filthy peasants play with your cock. You’ll be fine,” Barou says drily, giving Aiku’s cock a punishing squeeze, though not hard enough to hurt him. 

Barou’s the one who can’t replace Aiku. Not that it matters—he doesn’t need Aiku in the first place. Wanting him or not is irrelevant; Barou won’t waste time on something he already knows is a dead end.

“Mean Barou-chan,” Aiku gasps. He’s clutching at Barou’s chest now, gasping every time Barou pumps his cock. He is incredibly easy, Barou thinks. Surely most people don’t get this worked up this quickly, and maybe Aiku wasn’t just blowing hot air when he said Barou affected him more than normal. The thought pleases him, even if this is the last time they’ll do this. 

Barou thinks back to last night, how Aiku said he liked hearing him talk. Barou says, “You like that I’m… harsh, when I talk,” he says. 

Aiku’s answering groan says it all, but he still adds, “Yes, yes, you’re so sexy, my big, sexy, mean striker. Favorite striker. Making me so hard,” he babbles. 

“You’re full of it,” Barou tells him, but bends his head to nose at Aiku’s hair. They’d curled around each other, and now Aiku is practically crawling into Barou’s lap, legs spread wide to allow Barou any access he wants. Barou holds him securely in place, focused completely on what Aiku responds to, how he can make Aiku fall apart as completely as Aiku had done to him. 

“Full of you,” Aiku moans, which makes no sense, but Barou can feel Aiku’s balls drawing up by the base of his cock and it’s obvious Aiku’s too horny for coherency. 

Barou thinks about teasing him further, finding that he enjoys having a moaning, squirming Aiku in his arms. That’s his captain, his defender, rendered helpless just by his hand. It’s unexpectedly enjoyable. He’s just about to tease Aiku for being so worked up over a handjob, when there’s a sharp knock on the door, and Karasu pokes his head in. 

Barou freezes, stares at him. Aiku recovers quickly, grabbing the covers and pulling them up to Barou’s chin. 

“Well, well, well,” Karasu drawls, eyebrows raised high. 

“Scram, crow-chan,” Aiku scolds, protectively crawling over Barou. He’s still completely naked, hard dick hanging between his legs.

“What are you doing,” Barou hisses at him.

“Protecting your modesty,” Aiku whispers back just as urgently, as if they don’t all see each other naked in the locker rooms every damn day, as if he isn’t entirely exposing himself right now as they speak. Ridiculous.

“Woah, my bad, didn’t think you’d actually pull,” Karasu says, grinning as he sidles into the room and shuts the door behind him.

“Hey, I’ve got game,” Aiku protests.

“Sure, bud,” says Karasu, just as Barou says, “No, you don’t.”

“Tough crowd,” Aiku says mournfully. “I’m still gonna need you to hightail it, Kara-kun. We’re busy.”

“You shoulda stuck a sock on the doorknob if ya didn’t want me walking in,” Karasu says calmly. “I won’t take long, just need ta grab a change of clothes an’ some more condoms.”

Barou cuts in, grabbing Aiku’s hair and pulling him back to the mattress. “Make it quick, birdbrain,” he orders. 

“Barou-chan?” Aiku looks at him with betrayal. 

“Using protection during sex is important, jackass,” Barou scolds Aiku. “Let the man get his condoms. You should be more like him.”

Karasu’s grin widens, and he does move fairly quickly to dig through one of his drawers. “Thanks, Barou-chan.”

“Don’t call me that,” Barou growls. 

“Interesting,” Karasu says, straightening up with an armful of clothes. 

“The hell it is!” Barou yells at him.

“Remember, practice starts at 9,” Karasu smirks, then finally backs out of the room. Barou fumes in his wake, but Aiku just throws the covers back and pushes his still-hard cock against Barou’s leg.

“You wouldn’t leave me hanging, right?” Aiku turns to him, attempting puppy eyes that just look out of place on his rugged face. Barou grimaces at him, but still readjusts so he can reach Aiku’s cock. 

“It’s your lucky day,” Barou tells him, smoothing his hand down Aiku’s shaft, taking his time before wrapping his fist around it. “Better be grateful, peasant.”

“Nnng, yeah, I’m so grateful,” Aiku groans, voice cracking. His whole body shudders when Barou begins to stroke him properly, and it’s no time before he’s back to clutching at Barou’s shoulders. Barou likes that, so he bends down to kiss the side of Aiku’s neck.

“More,” Aiku groans, “ah, Barou-chan, you can treat me roughly. Use your teeth.”

“Don’t order me around,” Barou growls, and bites down. Aiku’s back arches, like he’s trying to push his skin against Barou’s mouth. Against his teeth. Barou is briefly reminded of nature documentaries where a lion bloodies its maw on the throat of its prey. 

“Feels good, so good,” Aiku gasps, baring his jugular like he’s begging to be savaged. So Barou gets rougher, teeth digging into flesh with bruising force for as long as Aiku keeps asking for it. “That’s,” Aiku stutters, “that’s it, I’m  close, I wanna cum for you, Barou-chan.”

“For me?” Barou echoes against Aiku’s neck. Aiku says ridiculous things, but fine. He’ll play along. “Then do it. Cum for me.”

He returns his teeth to Aiku’s neck, and he only has to pump Aiku’s cock a few more times before he spills over. Barou works him through it, only lifting his head once Aiku’s calmed down.

The side of Aiku’s neck is bruised in several places, the imprints left behind by Barou’s teeth already turning blue-purple against his pale flesh. He touches the place briefly, retracting his hand when Aiku shivers.

“I actually bruised you,” Barou frowns.

“Mmmn,” Aiku mumbles, flattening out on his back. “Careful, my cum’s gonna get everywhere if you don’t wipe it up soon.”

Barou spares a glance for the pearly fluid splattered across Aiku’s stomach, then disregards it. “Focus, Aiku,” he says, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Does it hurt? I’ll go get ice.”

Aiku’s eyes widen, bright green and purple. “Oh, you’re worried about me?”

“I left teeth marks,” Barou says tightly. 

Aiku’s eyes roll back for a moment, and he groans. “Fuck me, that’s sexy. Don’t worry Barou-chan, I’m fine. Great. Amazing. It’s just a love bite, sweetheart.”

The term’s familiar, if not something Barou ever bothers to think about. At least Aiku’s fine, but now Barou feels like an idiot for being worried about nothing and even worse, for letting Aiku see it. He clicks his tongue, turning away to grab the wet wipes and busy himself cleaning off Aiku’s abs. 

“Thanks,” Aiku murmurs while Barou works. “Seriously though, I’m no saint, Barou-chan. I’m far too selfish to let you chew up my neck if I didn’t like it.”

“I got that already,” Barou says, shooting him a glare. 

“Don’t pout,” Aiku waves a hand aimlessly. “Instead, give me more hickeys. Everyone’s gonna know I got some, heh.”

“Fuck no,” Barou says, grimacing as he drops the dirtied wipes in the trash, then heavily falls back onto the mattress. Once again, he accepts Aiku cozying up to his side. It does make him think, though—he never pays attention when Aiku’s bragging about his sex life, but it’s impossible not to hear some of it. The man’s voice carries. 

“Oi, Aiku. Don’t run your mouth about this.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want people to know,” Barou says. 

“That we hooked up?” Aiku sounds guarded and oddly subdued. “Karasu already knows, so… even if I don’t tell people, he probably will.”

Barou sighs. “I don’t care if people know about us doing this, I meant—” he falters like a coward, afraid to say what he truly means. Barou grits his teeth, frustrated with himself. He’s better than this. 

“Barou?”

“I don’t want anyone knowing what,” Barou clears his throat, “what I’m like. During sex. It’s fine that you know, but I don’t need a bunch of jackasses in my business.”

Aiku relaxes; Barou hadn’t even realized he’d tensed. He sits up a bit, looking down at Barou with a strange, soft expression. “Ah, I understand now. Your secret’s safe with me, King-chan. I’ll keep you all for myself,” he winks.

“Good.” Barou dislikes how relieved he feels, but he trusts Aiku to keep his word. He sits up, stretches, thinks about kissing Aiku and then subsequently about morning breath. With a grimace, he says. “I’m getting up. There’s still time to work out before breakfast.”

“You’re a machine,” Aiku groans, but relinquishes his hold on Barou, letting him get out of bed then heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and rinse off. By the time Barou steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, Aiku is loitering in the doorway, dressed only in track pants. 

“What,” Barou says flatly. 

Aiku crosses his arms. “Think I can get away with a kiss goodbye?”

Barou narrows his eyes. “Did you—”

“Brush my teeth and use your very strong mouthwash? Sure did.” Aiku’s grin spreads wide and smug across his face.

Barou grunts, unfairly annoyed at being so predictable. He says, “Then try it and find out.”

Aiku wastes no time in walking up to him, cupping his face, and kissing him softly. He smells like mint and face wash. Barou shuts his eyes and decides it’s not too bad this time, either. 

“Hey, Barou,” Aiku says as he pulls away, “you don’t like kissing, right?”

“I don’t like people’s unhygienic mouths near mine,” Barou corrects him. The act itself, under certain, very specific conditions… he can enjoy it, it turns out. 

Aiku’s teeth worry at his bottom lip. “I was thinking if that’s the case, well, you probably haven’t kissed a lot of people.”

Barou’s lips thin as his annoyance grows. “Get to the point, Aiku.”

Aiku rubs at the back of his head, looking oddly sheepish. “So… was I your first?”

“I wasn’t a virgin, Aiku,” Barou growls, starting to pack up his toiletries. 

Aiku clears his throat. “I meant first kiss, Barou-chan.”

Barou pauses, hair dryer in hand. He’d forgotten that people care about that kind of thing, but now that he thinks back on it… he never had kissed Tsukasa. He’d had no desire to, and Barou strictly never does things that don't serve his interests.  

“I guess you were,” Barou finally says, resuming packing. “Why?”

“I mean, that’s kinda special, right? Maybe you wanted it with someone you actually…”

“I didn’t,” Barou interrupts gratingly, looking up at Aiku. “I really don’t care about that kind of sentimental crap.”

Aiku cracks a smile. “I suppose you wouldn’t. Well, I hope it was good regardless.”

Barou is finding it increasingly difficult to stay annoyed at Aiku when he’s being sincere. He heaves out a sigh, zipping up his toiletries bag before turning to face him. 

“Aiku. It was fine. I’d rather it be with you than anyone else.”

Aiku stares at him for a moment, his lips parted slightly. “You really mean that, don't you?”

Barou groans, impatient with what seems to be a pointless topic, then fixes Aiku with a severe look. “Name one time I said something I didn’t mean.”

Aiku doesn’t have a smartass reply for that, so Barou goes to leave. Aiku stops him in the bathroom doorway with a hand on his chest. He looks oddly flushed. 

“Hey, Barou-chan,” Aiku says, then hesitates. “You’re sure you don’t want to do this again?”

Barou frowns at him. “I’m sure.”

“You said it was because you didn’t want to share,” Aiku goes on.

“I’m not interested in being one of your numerous hook ups. It’s all or nothing for me.” . 

Aiku’s fingers rub over Barou’s sternum thoughtfully. “Is that the only reason? You’d want to hook up again if I didn’t fuck anyone else?”

“I thought that was obvious,” Barou says, lip curled. He dislikes drawing out what should be a foregone conclusion.

“Maybe, but I’m still kinda surprised,” Aiku says with a faint laugh. “I mean, why can’t we keep doing this until then? We’re heading back to Blue lock today, so we’ll be locked up in Ego’s little jail anyway.”

“No,” Barou says bluntly. “If we do this again, I’m going to get possessive. I won’t be nice about it whenever you decide you want to bang someone else. All or nothing, Aiku. It’s simple logic.”

Barou finally pushes past him to collect his clothes and get dressed in clean ones. He’d thought Aiku would be perfectly happy with a one night stand, and as much as he dislikes being one of countless notches on Aiku’s bedpost, Aiku did make it a worthwhile experience. 

Aiku is still watching him from the bathroom door frame. He says, “What would that ‘all’ in all or nothing look like, Barou-chan?”

An odd question. Barou pulls on a clean undershirt and pushes his hair back with a Blue Lock hairband, then considers Aiku. He looks like he genuinely wants to hear the answer, so Barou forbears berating him for bringing up redundant crap. 

Barou says, “I have to be the only one. If I’m gonna do anything with you, I won’t tolerate you having sex with other people, kissing other people, or whatever else. That’s all.”

Aiku’s eyebrows rise. “Wow. Sexually exclusive… does that mean just sex? You don’t want to date?”

Barou shrugs. “Haven’t thought about it. If you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty focused on soccer.”

“Yeah, yeah, you sure are,” Aiku laughs, then tilts his head. “I’m not really into dating, but if you’re not looking for romance…”

Barou hoists his neatly-packed duffel bag over his shoulder and looks down his nose at Aiku. “I’m not. And if you agreed to be exclusive then yes, I would want do this again.” He pauses, considers, and lifts his chin slightly as he adds, “Frequently.”

“God, you’re so hot,” Aiku mutters, then meets Barou’s eyes. “Listen, I’m very impulsive when it comes to things I want, and I really want more of—” he gestures between them “—this. But you deserve an actual, thought-out answer.”

Barou makes a gruff noise of agreement. “I demand no less.”

“So it’s cool if I think it over?” Aiku asks. 

It’s strange how distant Aiku seems now. Barou realizes that in his own way, Aiku had become more authentic with him over the course of the previous night, matching Barou’s rare sincerity with his own. Now, it seems like he’s withdrawing to really consider this. Barou didn't expect Aiku to be so open to the idea, but then it also makes sense that he’d be the exception to the rule. He doubts any of Aiku’s hookups could ever compare with him.

“Take your time,” Barou says, eyeing him only a little suspiciously. “Don’t fuck anyone else if you want to see me again. I mean it about not sharing.”

Aiku makes a face, but doesn’t argue. They both know if Aiku can’t handle keeping it in his pants while he makes up his impulsive little mind, he doesn’t stand a chance meeting Barou’s standards. 

Barou pauses next to him on his way out the door. 

“If you choose me, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of,” Barou says slowly, eyes dropping down to Aiku’s groin to demonstrate what he means. Aiku’s parted lips show he got the message loud and clear. “Just something to think about,” Barou adds, head held high as he leaves.

Notes:

thank you so much for reading!! i hope youve been enjoying so far! yours kudos and comments so far have been making my LIFE truly i feel blessed, i love hearing everyone's aibr thoughts SO OS OSOS mcuh. this is also around where i was originally going to end things, with maybe a little scene after about which direction aiku decides to go in :D however. i did not end it and well you'll see what comes next

for everyone who enjoyed barou being weird about kissing, i hope you enjoyed learning he's a MOUTH VIRGIN WAHOO i was so excited to post this for that reason haha

barou is just one of those really wonderful characters u can interpret in many ways, and this barou is heavily informed by his little cafeteria heart-to-heart with isagi where he says he isn't afraid to confront his weaknesses and grow from them. he's just so refreshingly direct and surprisingly self-aware, he's just such a weird little guy that being self-aware doesn't stop him from acting like That

i just love him so much ughhhhh

next chapter is aiku pov >:D i wonder how he feels about events so far

Chapter 4: and aiku doesn't even have a fishing license

Notes:

in which we learn more about aiku's sheets from chapter 1

Aiku expects to be over it—over Barou—by the next day. They’re all settled back in the U-20 team facilities, with their Ego-assigned roommates (something about a team cohesion algorithm which Aiku remains skeptical of), and things should be going back to normal. 

Aiku should be going back to normal, in the sense that he should be going through his normal cycle of enthusiasm for someone new, having sex, then becoming swiftly disinterested in his latest and greatest hookup. God, but describing Barou Shouei as a hookup (even the latest and greatest) is such a criminal understatement. Aiku shouldn’t really be surprised that he can’t stop thinking about the guy. 

And he was Barou’s first kiss? Barou might not care, but it makes Aiku feel crazy.

He can’t stop replaying it in his head, how tense Barou had been, the faint flush on his cheeks when he allowed Aiku just that much closer, the electric moment he finally began to touch Aiku in return. And later, when Barou had kissed him, pushing his tongue into Aiku’s mouth with the same assertive determination he puts into every part of his life. Even worse, Aiku now knows for certain that moment was the first time Barou’s kissed anyone, and the person he picked was Aiku. Yeah, it’s making him crazy. 

Aiku has long since lost track of how many people he’s kissed, but he does know for certain that Barou put them all to shame on his first try. Not because he was that great at kissing; Barou had as much skill as you’d expect from anyone as inexperienced, but… the sheer fact that it was Barou shoving his tongue in Aiku’s mouth is enough to make him shiver from head to toe just by remembering it… And now Aiku’s just replaying it in his head again. 

With a heavy sigh, Aiku scrubs over his face with both hands. He’s gotta get his head on straight. He’ll screw around with almost anyone, but not with his friends. Not with his teammates, either, and definitely not with one of the top soccer talents in Japan. Regardless of how this all plays out, he’s gotta do right by Barou. 

“Ya good?” Karasu asks, like he’s hoping to learn why Aiku’s doing bad. “You’ve been staring at nothin’ for thirty minutes, cap.”

“I was watching a livestream of Stockholm, actually,” Aiku tells him, shutting his laptop and swivelling around to face him. 

Karasu puts his chin on his hand, likely examining Aiku for flaws. “So, nothin’,” he says.

“Okay, what’s your theory?” Aiku asks. “I know you’re thinking of something.”

“I bet you wanna know.”

“That usually is why people ask questions about stuff,” Aiku points out, slouching over the back of his chair. “Come on, crow-chan, you walked in on me and Barou yesterday. I know you’ve got opinions. Lay it on me.”

“You gotta tell me how it was,” Karasu blurts out. “Barou? Did he make you scrub your dick with Lysol wipes? Bleach your asshole? Wax your chest?”

Aiku abruptly understands why Barou had asked him not to tell anyone what he’s like during sex. Aiku already feels protective of the precious, sweet side of Barou revealed that night and exposing him to Karasu feels like handing a baby bird to a hungry fox. 

Aiku says, “I don’t kiss and tell,” which makes Karasu bust up laughing. 

“Dude, that is all you do,” Karasu snickers.

“Not this time,” Aiku says virtuously. “But I will say it was hot as fuck, and I am definitely trying to hit again.”

“And he doesn’t wanna.”

“Well…”

“Why else are you moping around?”

Aiku sighs. “‘Cause he wants to be exclusive, and I’m, you know. Me.” 

“Hooooly shit. I can’t believe he likes you that much.”

“Hey, I’m very likeable. People like me.”

Karasu snorts, but lets it slide. “Idiot. Obviously you wanna go for it, otherwise you wouldn’t be mopin’ around watching videos of nothing like a complete moron.”

“It’s not nothing, it was Stockholm,” says Aiku. “I haven’t decided yet, with Barou-chan. Just think of how bad it’d be if I fucked it up.”

“Interesting,” Karasu says slowly. “You should do it.”

Aiku narrows his eyes. “Okay, that sounded way too Schadenfreude for comfort.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak white people,” Karasu shrugs. “Just don’t go blamin’ me when you fumble the biggest ass in Blue Lock.”

“Hey, Barou-chan’s not that bad.”

Karasu’s eyebrows rise. “I meant the biggest ass. Gluteus Rex. I measured; my eyes see everything.” 

“I’ll go ahead and not tell Barou you said that,” Aiku says archly. “You’re welcome.” 

So maybe Karasu isn’t the right person to give him advice. He might be one of Aiku’s few friends in a happy, committed relationship, but he’s also intentionally unhelpful to a fault and there’s really no parallels to be drawn between Kiyora and Barou. It’s impossible to compare anyone to Barou, really. 

 

He catches Barou staring at him that evening. Aiku is eating with his defense boys, and Barou’s being harassed by one of the many friends he claims to dislike (tonight it’s Isagi). But he still looks towards Aiku, and Aiku gladly meets his sharp gaze. If Barou’s gonna stare at him, then Aiku’s gonna give him a nice view. 

Welcome to the Big Leagues, Barou-chan, Aiku thinks as he angles how he’s sitting so Barou can have a nice view of the love bites he left all over Aiku’s neck. He likes this part, the flirting, the back and forth. It’s fun until it gets old, and it’s going to get old eventually. It always does. 

Aiku just needs to make sure he doesn’t overpromise to Barou before that happens. Doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it for now, right? And Barou’s wide eyes are so gratifying.

Across the table from him, Kurona is pretending not to notice while Raichi sneakily swaps their sides, giving himself all the gyoza. Raichi is picky, and Kurona is kind—Aiku knows Kurona always orders extra gyoza so Raichi can enjoy stealing it. It’s cute enough to make your chest ache. 

Aiku looks over towards Barou again, but he’s returned his attention to Isagi, now in a heated debate about striking tactics, probably. 

“You can have the last one, too, too,” Kurona says softly. Raichi does a poor job of checking to make sure no one’s watching, then wipes his mouth before giving Kurona a quick kiss on the cheek. Aiku distracts himself by asking Aryu if he used a different conditioner because his hair looks so nice (which it always does), guaranteeing himself a flamboyant sermon on hair care. 

Aryu does end up recommending a great sulfate-free shampoo to help Aiku preserve the bright green sections of his hair, which has suffered greatly in Blue Lock, so there’s that.

 

The next day, Aiku drags himself out of bed at 6:45 AM and makes it to the gym in time to find Barou starting his morning routine. He doesn’t make it every day because good god, 6:45 AM, but it’s also prime time to hang out with Barou so he makes the effort at least a few times a week. 

Barou spares him a brief glance and says, “You’re late. Warm up first.”

Too sleepy to bother replying, Aiku just drops his stuff and does some light jogging, some stretches, then finds Barou in the weights corner. 

“Need a spot?” he asks. 

“No. I don’t overload in the mornings.” Barou goes back to his bench presses, and Aiku takes a moment to appreciate his perfect form, how he’s barely sweating despite lifting weights too heavy for most of the team to handle. Desire curls in his stomach and he turns away to focus on his own reps. 

Aiku picks a weight machine that faces away from Barou lest he become too distracted and drop a hundred pounds on his face, or risk popping a boner that Barou will invariably ridicule. 

They finish up around 8 AM, and Barou comes over to toss a clean towel on Aiku’s stomach. 

“I can wipe the equipment down,” Aiku offers, and watches Barou visibly consider instructing him how to do it properly. Miraculously, he says nothing. Maybe Aiku has proved himself hygienic without supervision. 

Aiku wipes sweat from his face and when he looks up, Barou is right next to him, looking down at him imperiously, hands in his pockets. Aiku so clearly remembers how those hands felt on his body. Phew.

Barou says, “Your neck is still bruised.”

“You like that?” Aiku purrs, running his fingers over the marks, raising his chin so they’re more exposed. He watches Barou closely, searching for even the slightest hint of approval. He gets his reward when Barou swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. God, that hit of approval feels so good Aiku could moan. 

“I should have left more,” Barou says in that sexy, grating voice of his. Before Aiku can get all hard about it, Barou turns to head to the showers, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t slack on the cleanup, peon.”

Aiku salutes him, even if Barou can’t see it, then lets his head fall back on the weight bench with a thud. What is he doing? Trying to play Barou is a fucking joke when Barou can fluster him with barely a single sentence. 

 

Well, he’s not getting over Barou, at least not on his normal schedule. Aiku is still intensely aware of his presence, and he still has to fight the urge to dreamily stare at him 24/7. Though, to be fair, Aiku has always been aware of Barou and not just because of his extremely tall hair or tendency to shout at people. 

First, as an opponent and talented striker, then as a teammate, and eventually as a friend. Adding sex to the mix was fucking stupid, since now that awareness extends to Barou’s cutting eyes, his beautiful face, his perfect, perfected body. No wonder Aiku can’t tear his eyes away. 

And now that Aiku knows what Barou is like behind closed doors, the fucking moe gap is like crack to his brain. He sees Barou berating people on the pitch and thinks about lying warm in bed while Barou gently plays with his hair. He watches Barou easily bench 250 lbs and remembers sliding his cock between his well-endowed pecs. 

It’s especially easy to remember when Barou almost always works out shirtless.  

“I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of,” Barou had said. Aiku badly wants to find out exactly what that means to Barou, because whatever it is, Barou’s sure to dial it up to a hundred. 

Maybe that’s why it’s been three days and Aiku still hasn’t told Barou that of course he can’t be exclusive, that his longest monogamous situation lasted a week and a half, and that he gave up on things like being ‘exclusive’ ages ago. He may be willing to lead his dates on, but not Barou. Which leaves him with a major problem: the moment things become predictable, they become boring. Aiku tolerates boredom badly. 

Barou would be predictable, right? 

His schedule is so regular that most of the team has it memorized. He’s rigid, relentless, and utterly refuses to be anyone but his exacting self. Endless ambition powered by unwavering focus—to Aiku, Barou is the platonic ideal of a striker. Aiku wants to be the best center back in the world, and he wants the best striker in the world leading the charge. And god, no one charges like Barou does. 

What was Aiku thinking about? Right, about how it’s been days now, and he still can’t bring himself to turn Barou down.

 

“So, guess what,” Aiku says, throwing open the door to Sendou’s room and finding him in bed, laptop on his thighs. 

He’d seen Chigiri in the cafeteria earlier, which means he’ll have Sendou to himself—another mystical team cohesion algorithm pairing. It also apparently meant Sendou thought he’d have time to himself, too.

“Knock!” Sendou shrieks. 

Aiku lunges for the laptop, but Sendou snaps it shut before Aiku can get a peek of his screen. “Aw, come on, don’t hide your porn from me!”

“I wasn’t watching porn,” Sendou hisses like a liar as he shoves Aiku away. “What do you want?”

“Guess what,” Aiku repeats insistently, settling on the foot of Sendou’s bed. Sendou pulls a face, which is fair. As Aiku’s closest friend on the team, he’s seen the worst of Aiku. Aiku at his worst is… worthy of the face Sendou’s making right now.

Sendou says, “No thanks, last time you wanted me to guess something, it was about the number of girls that threw up on you after our last away game.”

“Okay, it was only two, and it’s not my fault we all got food poisoning,” Aiku complains. At least it meant his extremely apologetic call to housekeeping resulted in fresh sheets for Barou the next day. “Besides, they let me hit when we felt better.”

Sendou mimes gagging, then says, “I also don’t wanna guess how much money you blew on pachinko, you old man. It’s sad.”

“Shuuto, you wound me. That was only ten times. Maybe eleven.”

“Or who slid into your dms lately. You’re gonna ghost them eventually anyway.”

Aiku rolls his eyes. “Well if you’re gonna be like that, then maybe I don’t need your advice, after all.”

As expected, Sendou perks up immediately. “Wait, no, you definitely need my advice. I have gotta hear what’s got the mighty Oliver crawling to me for help.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, I’m thinking about…” Aiku pauses for effect, “trying to date someone. Or, well, not date, but being exclusive. Like, sexually.” 

Sendou looks bored again. “Easy. Don’t.”

“Aw, come on,” Aiku says, “I need real advice. You actually date girls sometimes.”

Sendou gives him a disdainful look. “Yeah, which is why I know you shouldn’t.” 

Aiku lets out a slow breath, ignoring the odd sinking sensation in his gut. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Sendou’s jaw drops slightly, and he stares for a couple of seconds before saying, “Hang on, do you seriously wanna date somebody? Someone specific?”

Aiku folds hands behind his head, getting comfortable. “That’s right. Why else would I ask you about this stuff?”

“Wow, I never thought this day would come,” Sendou says, stroking an imaginary beard. “Good that you came to someone wiser and more mature for advice.”

“If you’re gonna jack yourself off, you can just go back to watching porn,” Aiku says with a contrived yawn. 

“Fine, you jerk. So what makes this one different? Who actually caught Oliver Aiku’s interest? Was it Beyoncé? The Queen of England? Hugh Jackman after his shirt explodes in the Deadpool vs. Wolverine movie?”

“Even better.”

“Impossible. No one is better than Beyoncé.”

Aiku says, “It’s Barou Shouei.”

Sendou gasps with what sounds like pure, abject horror. 

“Well, that was dramatic,” says Aiku.

Sendou looks like he’s about to shriek again, then stops and laughs haltingly. “Ah, ah hah, you are joking. Very funny. You did not have sex with Barou.”

“I am hilarious, but I’m also not joking about this,” Aiku says, martyred. “Why does no one think I can pull?”

Sendou looks disturbed. “There’s a difference between getting lucky in a bar and sleeping with Barou fucking Shouei, Aiku. Tell me you didn’t.”

Aiku smirks and bares the side of his neck, pointing to the evidence. “These are from the King himself.”

“Oh, you’re so fucked,” Sendou says. 

“Well, I don’t love the sound of that.”

Sendou scoots forward a bit, giving Aiku a sincere look that immediately sets off alarm bells. “Oliver, dude, it’s Barou. He’s not just gonna slap you if you cheat. He’s gonna—gonna deep fry your balls, or something else horrible. Dissolve your body in lye.”

“How evocative,” Aiku says drily. “And kind of concerning that that’s your first thought. Have you been watching Dexter again? You know that’s too scary for you.”

“Anyway,” Sendou says persistently, “are you really sure you don’t just want him ‘cause you can’t have him?”

Huh. Maybe that’s it, actually. Aiku’s a known sucker for the whole hard-to-get thing, and Barou’s fucking impossible. No wonder Aiku feels like an addict.

“Technically, I did already have him,” Aiku points out.

“And how was that, by the way? Did he scold you about the dirty dishes halfway through?” Sendou laughs. He’s a gossip and so is Aiku, normally, but something about this rubs him the wrong way. 

Barou didn’t scold him halfway through, he let Aiku fuck his tits halfway through. He told Aiku he liked him, even if only in a general sense—Barou’s words still sounded a thousand times more genuine than all the girls who confess their love to Aiku. He thinks about how Barou had let Aiku fall asleep on his shoulder, and how one else needs to know about Barou’s thighs trembling around his head while he sucked him off, all the little whines he couldn’t manage to hold in—those are for Aiku alone.

“It was none of your business,” Aiku says snidely.

“Come on,” Sendou placates, “you always tell me stuff. Way too much, actually.”

“It was good enough for round two,” Aiku says, skirting the question. 

“Hm. So, what’s the whole story?”

“Can’t fuck him again unless I hang up my slut hat,” Aiku says mournfully. “But I mean… that’s all I’d have to do. He doesn’t even wanna date.”

Sendou pauses, orange eyes wide. “Do you? Want to date him?”

Does he? Shit, does he? The sinking feeling in his stomach returns.

“Well, I don’t really see the point otherwise,” Aiku says reluctantly. “Of course I wanna hit again, but giving up all casual sex sounds terrible. Why do all that for someone that I don’t even like enough to date?”

“And you’re considering it,” Sendou says slowly, “With Barou. ‘Cause you… like him.”

“Don’t start—”

Sendou rests his chin on both fists like a schoolgirl on a sleepover. “Aw, Oliver’s got a crush.”

Aiku eyes him. “Oliver’s got a sudden desire to smack you.”

Unintimidated, Sendou bats his eyelashes at him. “It’s sooo cute. Too bad he’s gonna twist your balls off when you cheat on him.”

“What happened to deep frying them? Something about lye?” 

Sendou ignores that with a wave of his hand. “Even if you don’t get bored of him in a week, are you really gonna resist whatever hot groupie hits you up next? You think he’s gonna be fine with you getting drunk? Your hangovers? Gambling?”

“You make me sound like such an asshole,” Aiku says mildly.  

Sendou raises his eyebrows. “You’re an amazing friend, and a great teammate. Note that I am leaving out several categories.”

It’s not unfair. Aiku’s track record with relationships isn’t great (unlike his actual track record; he’s a great runner), and he’d been starting to wonder if he couldn’t improve it enough to suit Barou but… he probably shouldn’t kid himself. That pit in his stomach is becoming distractingly miserable, an empty ache that’s reaching up into his chest. Aiku scratches at his scruff absentmindedly, trying and failing to see a way to make it work. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says finally. “I’ll tell him no deal.”

“There, there,” Sendou says, patting his knee. “Hey, we can go out tonight, how about that? Pull the old ‘get over someone by getting under someone new’ thing?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Aiku says, getting to his feet. Sendou frowns. 

“Are you that upset?”

Maybe he is. Aiku says, “Nah, but it’s the middle of the week. Bars’ll have better pickings tomorrow.”

”There’s the Oliver I know,” Sendou grins, and Aiku silently thanks him for being so unobservant. 

Maybe Sendou has the right idea, and he just needs to get back into his normal groove. Go out, look for someone fun to spend the weekend with, tank the rejections and enjoy the chase. Being practically imprisoned by Ego could make anyone go mad, even if Aiku’s version of going mad is to seriously consider any kind of commitment. 

 

On Friday, Sendou drags Aiku out to one of their favorite places—well, favorite within driving distance of Blue Lock, so the bar is very low. Still, Aiku is several beers in, and Sendou has managed to chat up a long-haired beauty. Otoya, as per usual, has a pack of women around him. Everyone seems to like his carefree personality, even if his pick-up artist moves look painfully obvious to Aiku. 

Whatever. Aiku doesn’t care. He feels insane tonight, looking at the bar and wondering when the last time anyone sanitized it was, and thinking about how much Barou would hate it here. It’s after 10 PM, though, so Barou is probably all tucked in at this point, listening to Raichi snore (another of Ego’s questionable roommate matches, although the fact they haven’t killed each other suggests there’s some merit to his method). 

He jolts when Sendou claps him on the back. “Dude, lighten up! You’re supposed to be having fun!”

“I am,” Aiku promises, snapping a smile back on his face and swiveling his stool around to lean back against the bar. “Just enjoying my first drink in weeks.”

“If you say so. Anyway, I brought you a new friend!” Sendou introduces them and chatters about how she’s friends with whoever Sendou found for the night, and she is pretty. 

Aiku agreeably talks to the girl, buys her a drink, sits there while she strokes his forearm, then his bicep, giggling over how huge he is—probably twice her weight, all things considered—and he even gives her his number. 

Her apartment is nearby, and Aiku thinks about how if he fucks her, or even kisses her, he will lose any chance with Barou ever again. He could just do it now and get it over with, save himself the pain of spending even longer thinking in circles over what to do about Barou. It would be so much simpler. 

She does look kissable, with nice lips, pretty eyes, and so on. She probably wouldn’t care about Aiku’s millions of mouth bacterias or whatever, and Aiku hates it when it’s this easy. 

He’s pretty sure he could have Barou walking down the aisle and still be convinced he’s the most difficult man in the world. 

Aiku makes it as far as the girl’s front door, having endured Sendou’s knowing look and Otoya’s cheesy thumbs up as he’d followed her from the bar. Then he catches her looking at his mouth for a beat too long and suddenly realizes he’s not ready to lose Barou forever if she decides to kiss him.

After an awkward apology, a very poor explanation, and a few minutes of making sure she got inside safely, Aiku finds himself calling a taxi back to Blue Lock. He spends the night alone in bed, listening to Karasu and Kiyora giggle at each other under the covers and feeling distinctly miserable and sorry for himself. 

 

Chigiri waylays him the next day, dragging Aiku aside after lunch to sit him at an empty table in the corner.

“We need to talk,” he says with a glare. Thick lashes only serve to make his red eyes more threatening. Aiku does like being glared at, so he smiles back. 

“What can I help you with, princess-chan? PT going okay?”

Chigiri rolls his eyes. “Ugh, it’s fine. I’m talking about our resident king.”

Aiku is legitimately surprised, until he remembers Chigiri and Barou had been on the same team for a fair amount of time. They’re fairly close, at least in terms of how close anyone ever gets to Barou. His mental roster of players who can manage to collaborate with Barou is short, but Chigiri is on it. 

“Okay, shoot,” Aiku says warily. 

“He’s too good for you,” Chigiri says bluntly, raising his perfectly-shaped eyebrows. “Really, I don’t know what he sees in you, but I know your type. I know what you get up to. Whatever you’re pulling over on him, quit it. He deserves a good boyfriend.”

Aiku forebears mentioning that Barou only wants to fuck, but before he can think of a response, Nagi slithers into the spot next to Chigiri and rests his chin on the table. How he manages to slouch so much while being so tall is truly impressive. 

“What the princess said,” Nagi drones. “Can I go now?”

“Yes,” Aiku says, and Chigiri says, “No!”

Aiku sighs shortly, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is too much for the morning. “Look, Barou-chan’s my friend, too. I’m not gonna hurt him, or whatever you think is happening.”

Chigiri’s eyes narrow. “See that you don’t. I’ll sic my boys on you.”

“Who’s your—never mind,” Aiku says glumly. If Chigiri tells any man what to do, they’ll probably go along with it. Aiku’s relative popularity pales in comparison to the prettiest face on the team. 

He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the man himself coming over until Barou’s only a few places away, forehead veins popping out with obvious irritation. He grabs the back of Chigiri and Nagi’s heads and pushes both of them face-first into the table. 

Now there’s a guy who wouldn’t blindly follow a pretty face, Aiku thinks with satisfaction. 

“What the hell are you losers doing,” Barou snarls, bending down to speak directly into their ears. Nagi slithers away in a practiced manner, and Chigiri swats Barou’s arm away with both hands like he would a swarm of mosquitos. Barou straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest—it looks great today, outlined in his clingy undershirt. 

“Barou-chan!” Aiku says happily, all worries forgotten.

“This is your fault,” Barou scowls at Aiku, pointing a threatening finger his way. “A bunch of jackasses sticking their noses in my private life.”

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” Nagi intones, scooting away from them. “Where’s Reo?”

Barou’s eyes near roll into the back of his skull. “I have better shit to do than babysit you losers. Stay out of my fucking business, and my fist will stay out of your face, how about that?”

“What a hassle,” Nagi mutters faintly. He seems to be getting farther away. 

“I like that tank top on you,” Aiku says innocently, since the cat’s already out of the bag with this audience. “It’s very flattering.” Barou’s eyes blaze. 

“Cut that shit out,” he growls at Aiku, then turns on his heel and storms away, heading back to his table with Itoshi Sae—an unlikely pair, but they seem to both enjoy sitting in silence and glaring at anyone who passes by. 

Aiku rests his cheek on his fist and watches him go. “He’s so dreamy,” he sighs, earning a sound of disgust from Chigiri. Nagi is long gone. 

Chigiri looks unamused. “Listen, I’m only saying this because I kind of respect you. Do you honestly think you can do right by him?”

Aiku opens his mouth, and Chigiri cuts him off to say, “I don’t need an answer, but he doesn’t need some douchebag half-assing a relationship. That’s just my opinion.”

Chigiri’s right, of course. Aiku watches him leave, tracking his trajectory to wherever Kunigami is. Now that Barou’s gone, his mood plummets right back to where it had been last night. Barou had seemed off, too, even if he can’t put his finger on why. Usually he seems more willing to endure Aiku’s teasing, but then… It’s been nearly a week since Aiku said he’d think things over. Barou’s probably just sick of waiting to hear from him.

 

It’s truly dire straits that find him giving his older sister a call. As much as he hates to ask her advice, he did learn everything he knows about picking up women from her example, and she is, miraculously, now married. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is here?” she yells as she picks up. 

Aiku checks the clock app on his phone and says, “6 AM. Rise and shine, Olivia.”*

“I hate you,” Olivia growls, then softer to someone else, “Sorry baby, it’s just Oli and he never calls me.” The last part sounds pointed. 

“Say hi to Maren for me,” Aiku adds cheerfully. 

There’s some rustling noises, then Olivia says, “Okay, I’m up. What’s going on? Should I be worried? Are you in trouble with loan sharks?”

“Hey, come on, you know about Sakamoto-san. My salary is safe from me,” Aiku says with deep melancholy. Olivia had really been on top of it when she’d convinced him to get a financial manager. He’s chronically broke in the sense the very liveable allowance he gives himself weekly always seems to vanish, not in the sense of the large majority of his earnings being responsibly invested by Sakamoto-san. 

“Okay, no loan sharks. Oh my god, Oliver. You got someone pregnant.”

“I didn’t!” Aiku protests. “Well, not that I know of. That’s not why I’m calling, anyway.”

“Hm. Okay, I’ll bite. What’s going on?”

Aiku groans again, stirring his spicy ramen with vengeance. “How did you decide to settle down? How did you know Maren was the one?”

Olivia makes a long, drawn-out oooooooh that crackles over the phone line, and says, “Aw, is my baby brother in lurve?”

“I’ll hang up,” Aiku threatens. How had he gone from trying to slither back into Barou’s pants to, well, whatever this is? 

“Oh no, don’t hang up on me. I’d have to go back to bed with my gorgeous wife and her gorgeous negligee,” Olivia says pointedly. 

“There’s a guy,” Aiku admits, sensing that she’s seconds away from doing exactly that.  

“Thank god,” Olivia says.

“Wait, why are we thanking god?”

“Sorry, but no woman deserves to be stuck with you,” Olivia says with a saintly air. Aiku can see her shit-eating grin in his mind, even if he rarely sees her since she moved back to Sweden. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Are you done? Jesus Christ. Anyway, it’s someone on my team,” Aiku says. “He wants to be exclusive.”

“And you’re considering it. Bussy that fire?”

“You’re pushing thirty. Never say bussy again.”

“Can’t make me,” Olivia sings, then relents. “Okay, okay, I’ll try and be helpful, but it wasn’t any big moment that I just knew she was the one. I’m going to sound like a jerk, but I just wanted her so bad I didn’t care if I fucked it up down the line. And then I fell for her,” Olivia laughs softly. “And suddenly I did care if I fucked it up, but she was also there every step of the way, making sure I didn’t. Does that make any sense?”

Aiku makes a face at his phone. “Not really?”

Olivia sighs. “I don’t know, Oliver. I know you’re not naive enough to be looking for some fairytale romance. Shit always fluctuates, you know? But I could never get tired of Maren, and she’s more than capable of knocking sense back into my head when I need it.”

“I guess. I wasn’t even going to think of settling down until I retired, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, no wife and kids holding you back or whatever. You gonna knock this guy up?”

Aiku is suddenly imagining fucking Barou raw and nearly spills his noodles all over himself. He clears his throat. “God, I fucking wish.”

“Exactly. You obviously aren’t gonna have kids with him, so what gives? You think he’s gonna hold you back, or something? Wanna settle down?”

Aiku laughs at that, relaxing. “No way, dude. Barou’s even crazier about soccer than I am. By a lot. Do you remember him from BLTV? He’s the striker who was on my team. Not Sendou—not the pink one.”

There’s a moment of silence, then a gasp. “Holy shit, you pulled him? Nice, very nice,” she says. 

“I know, right?” Aiku says, gratified that someone finally gets it. 

Olivia makes a considering noise. “You know, I can see it. You really like this guy, huh?”

“Guess so,” Aiku sighs. “I mean, does it matter? He doesn’t even wanna date, Olivia. And I really don’t think I can be exclusive like that if it’s just sex. Even for him.”

“You might be surprised,” Olivia says, more gently. “Just going off what I saw on your show, he doesn’t seem like the type to propose this kind of thing lightly. He might be more willing to listen than you think.”

Barou and ‘willing to listen’ aren’t words that any sane person would combine, but Aiku does like a good gamble and the prize pool is really stacked. Gluteus rex, Aiku thinks dreamily.  

 

Aiku wakes up in time to join in Barou’s morning workout again, largely just to reassure himself everything is fine. He plods into the gym, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Barou is still stretching, wearing old Blue Lock sweats and a loose muscle tank that he’ll definitely ditch later. Aiku pauses in the doorway, watching as Barou carefully stretches his hamstrings.

The lump in his throat is all affection. Aiku won’t pretend otherwise; his shameless lies are reserved for other people. And maybe it was Aiku just enjoying the thrill of the chase, at first. Aiku operates on a catch and release basis, and Barou is a fucking impossible catch. A catch that Aiku now selfishly wants to keep. 

Besides, he needs to refresh the love bites on his next, which have faded almost entirely over the last ten days. Aiku shakes his head at himself, then heads over to Barou with a yawn. 

Barou looks up as he walks over, brow furrowed with his typical ill temper. Although it hasn’t been aimed at Aiku that much lately, has it? Barou never smiles, but Aiku can tell when he’s happy. He’s not happy right now. 

“What do you want?” Barou asks gruffly. 

“Just joining your fun and lighthearted morning exercise,” Aiku says, dropping down next to him. 

Barou stares at him hard for a moment, then turns away to stretch his other leg. “I really don’t get you,” he says. 

Ah, maybe Aiku had it right. He’s kept Barou waiting too long. Maybe Barou had expected an answer in hours or even days, but probably not over a week. Aiku was just carefully thinking it over, and maybe procrastinating on delivering bad news. He won’t shy away from the consequences of waiting too long.

“Hey, uh, sorry it’s taken me so long to make a decision,” Aiku begins, planning to explain just how out of depth he is. He doesn’t expect the venomous look Barou gives him over his shoulder. 

“No need,” Barou says shortly, biting each word out. “It’s clear enough.”

There it is: an easy out. Barou must have taken his silence on the topic as rejection, no matter what he’d said about Aiku taking his time. Aiku can let this be the end of things, give Barou a few days to cool off, then have a talk with him to make sure everything will be alright on a teamwork level—they have to be professionals, after all. 

Nothing with Barou is easy, though, and that’s one of the things Aiku likes about him so much. Aiku crawls in front of Barou so he can’t keep looking away from him, and earns a magnificent scowl in return. 

Aiku raises his eyebrows and says, “Tough luck, King-chan, ‘cause I think we should decide together. I’m not gonna make the call on my own.” 

Barou is seething, teeth set, but still controlling his temper. Aiku wants to kiss him, fuck, he always wants to kiss him. He’s always gonna want to kiss him, isn’t he?

“You’ve got some nerve,” Barou finally growls, and Aiku winks at him. 

“You know it, baby. Tonight, then? I’ll reserve a screening room.”

“Fucking—whatever,” Barou huffs. “Just do your goddamn stretches and shut up, for once.”

Aiku salutes him, shuts up, and does his stretches. He’s not certain he’ll end up walking out of that screening room alive, but what’s life without a little risk? Barou’s a risk well worth taking.

Notes:

the mystery of aiku's clean sheets is finally solved!

every day i work hard in the "make aiku so extremely slappable" mines 🤧 similar to my raichi/aiku fic, i do my best not to "fix" aiku bc i think he's hottest when he's a bit of a scumbag... but then the challenge becomes making him a scumbag in a way barou could feasibly accept haha, you'll have to tell me how i did after the next uhh 66k words

if you've read tan's amazing christmas ubers fic then you have met olive!! now you get to meet olivia <33 (and olive again later lol). olive & olivia is our special little aiku's lesbian sisters headcanon (all the aikus are womanizers). i also rly enjoyed writing aiku with someone who sees him as more or less a kid, AND honestly. he really does give middle child energy

again thank you everyone for being here <33 im grateful for every read, kudos, and comment!! i hope u continue to enjoy smooch

Chapter 5: risk-taking behavior

Notes:

sorry this took extra long to post, i decided to rework their convo a bit but instead of working on that i got bitchslapped w/ hella work from my job for a hot second there

i cant remember if i actually made this clear at any point, but barou's only roomed with kiyora when they were at their away game hotel, but back at blue lock he's roommates with raichi. this is for 1 reason only: i wanted to write kiyokara for tan <3 and add in more gratuitous raichi for me <3

Barou takes a good half hour to meditate before going to see Aiku. His earbuds are blasting EPIC THUNDER & RAIN | Rainstorm Sounds For Relaxing, Focus or Sleep | White Noise 10 Hours, since he wants the privacy of his room. He’s not exactly calm by the time he leaves to meet with Aiku, but at least he’s not furious enough to open the conversation with his fists. 

He was fine knowing Aiku had already found someone else to fuck. 

 He’d heard about it the day after it happened, thanks to the ninja’s huge mouth and apparent need to tell Karasu all about his night out, how many cute girls there were, how unfair it was that the cutest one asked for Aiku’s number, and how Aiku had mysterious disappeared for the rest of the night. Barou had shoved his dirty kit into his bag without sorting it into any of the sealed compartments, desperate to leave the locker room before Karasu looked his way.

At least it was simple: Aiku knew the consequences and had made his decision. It’s the answer Barou expected to receive, even if he would have preferred to learn of it in some other way. 

So why does Aiku want to talk? To tell him what they already both know? There’s only one sure way to find out.

Barou opens the screening room door to find Aiku pacing in between the couches. The floor-to-ceiling screens show an aerial view panning over a city at night, somewhere on a foreign coast. Aiku freezes when the door opens, turning to Barou. 

“Wanna sit down?” Aiku asks, dropping onto a couch with an air of relief. Steeling himself, Barou goes to him and stands in front of Aiku. 

“Well?” he demands.

“I am sorry it took me this long to say anything,” Aiku starts. Wrong thing to apologize for, but whatever. Barou doesn’t need an apology.  

“I know you went out last week,” Barou says tersely, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know you went home with a girl. There’s nothing to discuss, Aiku. I told you the deal’s off if you see anyone else.”

Aiku looks properly shocked, eyes wide and starry with reflections of the screens. His mouth opens and closes, then he says, “Wait, you think I slept with someone?”

Hearing it out loud makes Barou blanch, but he keeps his voice mostly level. “I heard Otoya talking about it. It was plenty clear to me.” 

At this point, Barou’s accepted the reality of the situation. Aiku, though, looks unexpectedly upset. Barou watches Aiku drag his hands down his face. When he looks back up, his mouth is set in a thin line. 

“So that’s why you’ve been distant lately,” Aiku says slowly. “I thought you were sick of waiting around to hear my answer.”

Barou shrugs, feeling off-balance. “No, I didn’t mind that. I figured you needed the time.”

Aiku looks away sharply, then back to Barou. “Sure, just like you figured I went behind your back and let you find out secondhand. Through Otoya. That’d be pretty shitty of me, right?” His voice is disconcertingly cool and measured.

“Yeah, and?” Barou’s volume grows alongside his stress. 

Aiku’s face closes, and his tone turns laconic. “Or maybe you thought I was trying to hide it from you. Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you in person. Did you think I was gonna lie about it, and try and get in your pants tonight?”

“I don’t know, were you?” Barou snarls, shoulders hunched up by his neck. He doesn’t understand why this conversation is going so poorly, and Aiku has never spoken to him like this before. 

Aiku scoffs lightly. “No wonder you looked like you wanted to take a swing at me this morning. If that’s what you think of me, I guess I can’t really blame you.” 

Barou’s face crumples at Aiku’s words, and he hates this with every fiber of his being. Scowling ferociously, he asks, “You think I’d attack you, like I’m some animal? Some stupid—stupid gorilla who can’t control himself?” 

Aiku draws back, eyes searching Barou’s face. “Barou, no, I—”

“Well, I’m not. And I’m not some coward who can’t admit to being wrong,” Barou interrupts, temper flaring as his face heats with frustration. “I shouldn’t have assumed you weren’t going to talk to me about it, just ‘cause of Otoya’s big mouth. Sorry. But I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, with all this lying stuff.”

A headache begins to throb in Barou’s temples, an ache that fills the following moments of quiet. The scene in the background swaps out for a different coastline. 

“There’s no lying,” Aiku finally says. “Sorry, Barou-chan. I think I overreacted, just now.”

“Ya think?” Barou curls his lip at him, but inwardly is perversely pleased: it seems even Aiku can’t always keep his cool. How satisfying. 

“I really didn’t want you to think I’m that kind of guy,” Aiku says, ducking his head. “So I took it really personally. Damn, way too personally.”

“Well, I don’t think that,” Barou says plainly.

“No?” Aiku asks, meeting his eyes. 

“I did think it was pretty shitty for you to keep flirting with me after deciding to sleep around,” Barou admits gruffly. “It would’ve been better if you told me first, but—“ he grimaces “—it was stupid to assume you knew I’d overheard Otoya, and obviously you were gonna tell me tonight. That’s on me. Just didn’t occur to me, I guess, but I’ve never done this shit before, Aiku. I don’t know how it goes.” 

“Oh, Barou, I didn’t actually—” Aiku begins. 

Barou interrupts him swiftly, too keyed up from their conversation so far. “You’ve always been disgustingly considerate towards me, don’t think I haven’t noticed. I know you wouldn’t do that tricky shit, whatever bullshit you were talking about. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Aiku’s closed expression has now fully opened, raw affection in full bloom. His gaze is soft, his smile is gentle. Barou feels his fight or flight instinct kick into gear. 

“Thanks, Barou-chan,” Aiku says softly. “It means a lot to me, that you think that.”

“Yeah, well, now you know,” Barou says, looking away. When Aiku looks at him like that, the rejection stings a lot more. “And I already know you decided to keep sleeping around, and I’m not mad about it. It was your choice. Are we done here?”

Aiku’s gaze searches his face, and Barou resists the urge to fidget. He rarely forces himself to stay anywhere he doesn’t want to be, and there’s nowhere he’d rather be less than in front of a man who picked some girl from a bar over him. 

“Barou,” Aiku says carefully, “I didn’t sleep with her. Or anyone else, since you.”

“Huh? But—”

“I was trying to say so earlier. I did go out planning to get laid that night, and I did chat up a girl. I gave her my number, let her feel up my arm, took her back to her place, and when I could tell she was gonna kiss me, I…” Aiku looks chagrined. “I ended up leaving. ‘Cause of you.”

Barou can’t name the squeezing sensation in his chest, but it strangles the life out of his urge to leave. “Oh.”

Aiku raises his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Yeah. I called a taxi and came back here and went to bed. Had to listen to Karasu and Kiyora snuggling all night, too.”

“Sounds terrible,” Barou grunts. So Karasu knew. Maybe that’s why he’d looked so smug when Otoya was talking to him, like he knew something funny Otoya didn’t. Karasu kind of always looks like that, though.

“Right? All that, just so I’d still have a chance with you,” Aiku says, damn near batting his eyelashes. “You think I’ve got a chance?”

“I’m the one who suggested this,” Barou says testily. “You tell me.”

“Ah, that’s what I actually wanted to talk to you about.” 

“It was a yes or no question. What’s there to talk about?”

Aiku turns towards him, one leg folded on the couch. “I’ve been thinking about it all week. I’m not usually so indecisive, you know. I even asked people for advice. Everyone thinks I’m going to fuck everything up, if you were wondering.” 

Aiku’s smile looks brittle. Now that Barou doesn’t feel so defensive, it’s easier to understand. “So that’s why you were freaking out, huh? That’s what you get for listening to a bunch of idiots.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Aiku laughs. “Got me really in my head about it all. Which is why I wanted to talk to you about it, in the end.”

Barou rolls his neck, relaxing. “Finally you’re making sense. My opinion is the only one that matters.”

“Right.” Aiku scoots a little closer. “Then let me lay all my cards on the table, so to speak. I want to know what you think.”

“I’m listening.”

“I think most people know my relationships don’t tend to last,” Aiku says, his voice low and steady. “I’ve never really seen the point of commitment, even if it’s just sex, so this should have been an easy answer for me.” 

“Get to the point,” Barou demands, resisting the urge to fidget. He dislikes situations he doesn’t know how to handle. 

Aiku shakes his head slightly, wavy bangs bouncing. He looks serious when he meets Barou’s eyes. “Seems like I can’t get enough of you. But giving up sleeping around all together? As much as I want to, I don’t think I can swing it long term.”

Ah, so it was a rejection after all. Barou sets his jaw, determined to take it on the chin. At least he knows Aiku wants it as badly as he does. At least Aiku had the decency to really think it through. They both knew it was a long shot. 

“Got it,” Barou says tightly. “Thanks for thinking it over. I’ll see you—”

“I’m not done,” Aiku says quickly, then falters. “Listen, I think we’re both kidding ourselves, here.”

Barou stares straight ahead as his temper flares. “Don’t drag it out, Aiku.”

“No, I mean that being sexually exclusive with you might not be enough for me, but—”

“I said I got it,” Barou hisses, rounding on him only to find Aiku with a hand half stretched towards him, looking appropriately apologetic but still oddly determined. Aiku sits back at Barou’s words, his hand going to rub at the back of his neck. 

“Sorry, sorry, I knew I’d be terrible at this,” Aiku says with a small laugh. “I guess I’m kind of awkward about some things, after all. What I’m actually saying is that sex might not be enough, but maybe if I really, you know, like that other person, I could make the exclusive thing work.”

Barou squints at him. If this is another rejection, it’s strangely worded and fairly cruel. “So you’re saying you don’t like me enough?”

Aiku laughs outright at that, with such obvious delight that it feels rather offensive to Barou, who hasn’t quite shaken off the hurt of rejection. Then Aiku sobers, looking at him with soft, fond eyes. 

“Barou-chan, I’m saying the opposite. I’ll be direct—”

“Finally.”

“—and ask you out properly. I’m confessing.”

“What?” Barou actually yells, his voice cracking. “Are you crazy?”

Aiku’s eyes narrow in a smile, not at all taken aback. “I know, I was shocked when I realized it, too. I really like you, though. I think that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to turn you down. I also think you feel the same way about me, so I don’t see the point in us pretending otherwise.”

Barou is so genuinely shocked that he nearly falls backwards, catching his weight with a hand placed on the plush cushions behind him. His mouth opens and closes soundlessly. Aiku thinks that he feels the same way? Does Barou feel the same way? 

Aiku clears his throat, then gives him a rueful grin. “Well, I figured it’d be a hard sell. I have a handful of flaws that make me… not exactly suited to a relationship. Or at least, one that I want to last longer than a few weeks.”

Barou frowns as he gathers his thoughts. “Then why are you asking me for one?”  

Aiku looks vaguely guilty. “Okay, fair question. I swore off real relationships years ago, but back then… I think I had too narrow a view of what a relationship could be. I thought it was just getting rich enough to pull a hot chick, then having kids when I retire. Or having kids before I retire, and getting nagged into retiring by my very sexy wife that I’d have.”

“That sounds terrible,” Barou says with disdain. 

Aiku nods. “Right? But I was, hell, I think I was fifteen? Sixteen? I didn’t even know I liked men yet, so it definitely didn’t occur to me that I could, well, date someone like me.”

“Never say I’m ‘like you’ again,” Barou grunts, but not without humor. Aiku cracks a smile. 

“Well, it’s not like I can accidentally knock you up before I wanna retire,” Aiku says, with a little smirk that Barou itches to smack off his face. He refrains, and Aiku continues, “So I don’t know. I’ve never asked out anyone like this—you know, seriously. Actually wanting to commit to something.”

Barou’s mouth quirks. “You’re a real piece of work, y’know?”

“I’m well aware,” Aiku says peacefully. He traces a finger over the couch cushions between them, expression turning thoughtful. “I can be real with you, right? It’s pretty obvious that we’re very different.”

“That’s right. You are flawed, and I am not,” Barou says, lifting his chin. 

Aiku squints at him. “Was that a joke? Are you joking around with me, Barou-chan?”

Barou maintains his straight face. “I never joke.”

“Whatever you say, King-sama,” Aiku says, fully laughing for a moment. Barou doesn’t hate making him laugh, not when it comes from Aiku actually understanding him. Then Aiku sobers, leaning back against the couch and draping an arm over the back of it. “You’re right though. I feel it’s only fair to give you a heads up on what you’re getting into. That is, unless you’re rejecting me outright.”

Barou has possibly never felt more out of his depth. Maybe this is like soccer, in a way—some problems you can’t solve no matter how hard you train, you have to get out on the pitch and work it out through pure animal instinct. And right now, all he knows for certain is that he’s not done with this conversation. 

“I’m not rejecting you outright,” Barou says firmly. “So. What’s wrong with you.”

“Where to start? I like gambling, for one. You can’t trust me with money. I’m usually kinda broke.”

Barou snorts. “So? Why would I care?”

“I mean, that’s a deal-breaker for a lot of people,” Aiku flounders. “I guess I figured you’d have higher standards.”

“I have extremely high standards, idiot,” Barou snaps, feeling vaguely insulted. “I also don’t have a reason to care about how much money you have. I’ll always make more than enough.”

Aiku gapes at him for a moment, shakes his head. “You’re a surprising guy, Barou-chan. Okay, well, there’s other things, too—like even if I don’t fuck anyone else, I can’t just not… you know. Flirt with people.”

“You can’t resist flirting with everything that moves?” Barou asks drily. “I think everyone in Japan knows that.”

“It’s just who I am—” Aiku starts, but Barou interrupts him, having lost patience.

“I know. I have working ears, Aiku, I hear all about your,” Barou makes a face, “activities. We’ve been around each other every single fucking day since we joined the Ubers. I know what you’re like.”

Aiku purses his lips. “And yet you’re not rejecting me outright… yet?”

Barou scoffs. “I’m saying I know what you’re like, and I’m not opposed to your personality. I don’t expect you to change. I’m sure as hell not going to change myself for you.” It might be the first time he’s seen Aiku look legitimately flustered. Barou enjoys it wholeheartedly. 

“So,” Aiku starts, “so then are you actually interested? In dating?”

“No,” Barou says automatically, because dating sounds like hell on earth. Then he sees Aiku flinch.

“Oh,” says Aiku, but Barou’s already shaking his head. 

“I meant that literally. I’m still not interested in romance, dating, or any of that crap. I have better shit to do. But in terms of us, together,” Barou trails off, jaw clenched. Aiku waits patiently, and Barou forces himself to spit it out—because the truth is that he does want more with Aiku. He always wants more, and usually he knows better than to expect anyone but himself to provide it. Aiku, though, may prove to be an exception.

Barou meets his eyes and says, “I am interested.”

Aiku beams at him. “Wow, that feels good to hear. Maybe this isn’t the worst idea ever. I’m not really into dating either, to be honest.”

Barou squints at him. “Aren’t you always going on dates?”

“I like the chase,” Aiku winks at him. “That, and the food. Going out’s fun. Upkeeping a girlfriend isn’t.”

“Wow, you are a real dirtbag.”

“Wow, you like a real dirtbag,” Aiku says unapologetically, imitating Barou’s condescending tone. “Still, though. We are very different people. I’m not trying to set us up to fail, Barou-chan, so as long as you know what you’re getting into…”

Barou snorts. “I know. An obnoxious, impulsive flirt who can’t keep his dick in his pants or money in his wallet, known for being a serial cheater and various other significant flaws.”

Aiku gapes at him. 

Barou says, “I have met you, you know.”

“Ye-es,” Aiku says slowly, “I’m finding it pretty unflattering, so far.”

“I wasn’t done,” Barou says haughtily. He  gathers himself for a moment. “Do you remember the first time we ever met. I had no idea who you were at the time, but you shut me out the whole damn game.” He sets his jaw; the memory still grates at him. It’s also one of the reasons that Aiku is one of the few people he truly respects. He goes on, “You said you were going to be the world’s best defender, and if I wanted to be the world’s best striker, we’d face off again.”

“That must have been years ago. I’m surprised you still remember.”

“Yeah, well, you’re uniquely ugly,” Barou says nastily. If Aiku hasn’t figured out that Barou’s attracted to him by now, then that’s his own damn fault. “That was when I decided to be the world’s best striker. And ever since… well. You might not be a forward, but I know you’re damn good at what you do. There’s no one else I’d rather have at my back.”

“Barou,” Aiku says softly.

“I care about soccer,” Barou says bluntly, “I care about success. I only have room in my life for things that support my goals, and you’re the only person I’d even consider allowing to support me along the way.”

Aiku looks like he’s blushing now. As he should be; Barou doesn’t praise people lightly. 

“So, I care that you don’t do anything that fucks with our soccer careers,” Barou continues. “I care if you meet my… needs. My standards for that are extremely high. The rest? All your ‘flaws?’ I only care about my own flaws, Aiku, not yours. They’re irrelevant to me.”

Aiku blinks at him. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered, Barou-chan.”

“You should be.”

“Well, I can promise I won’t do anything that’d fuck with my career—or yours, for that matter. I would never.”

“I know,” Barou says, eyes narrowed in approval. 

Aiku rubs at his scruff thoughtfully. “What are your needs, then?”

Barou rolls his neck, popping the joints, then says, “Sex.”

Aiku blinks. “That’s it?”

Barou gives him a scornful look. “I need you to be loyal. I expect you to have my back, like you always have,” he adds more softly.

“Right,” Aiku nods, with a lopsided smile. “You’ve figured out my soft spot for you, hm?”

“It was obvious. But Aiku, that means no cheating. Period. If you want to sleep with someone else, you have to end things with me first. We are going to have a very serious problem if you don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Aiku says, sounding kind of choked. “I’ll try my best, of course, but—”

“But I’m not afraid of a challenge,” Barou interrupts him. “I perform best when there’s the threat of failure. I don’t care that it could go wrong, but it just can’t be,” he pauses, clearing his throat, “it can’t be impossible. So, you tell me if it’s possible for this to work. If it is, then I’ll try.”

Aiku faces him head on, and says, “Truth is, it’ll be a gamble. I’ve never really tried to make a relationship work, but I’m game to try. I’m okay with that, if you are.”

Barou works his jaw, considering it carefully. Dating Aiku, or more accurately, taking Aiku as a partner, has clear benefits. Regular access to Aiku’s mouth, for one… He makes himself focus. He knows Aiku is an ideal partner in the crucial ways, that he’s part of the reason Barou is as excellent as he is. The more he thinks about it, the clearer it is what he wants. 

Besides, Barou’s not some whinging heroine who can’t handle getting dumped. Sure, he might beat the crap out of Aiku for ruining everything, but he’ll deal. All the tragic shit will probably just make him better at soccer, anyway. 

“If you want a relationship, then that’s what we’ll do,” Barou announces.

“Wow,” Aiku says slowly. “I can’t believe we’re actually going for this.”

“You’re easily wowed,” Barou says, looking away. He can feel the couch dip as Aiku shifts his bulk closer. 

“Hey, Barou-chan, does this mean I’m your boyfriend?”

Barou looks away even further. “It may as well.”

“Can I call you Shouei?”

“It would be weird as hell if you didn’t.”

“You can call me Oliver, if you want.” Aiku sounds even closer. 

“That’s fucking impossible to pronounce.”

“You can call me something else, then,” Aiku purrs. Barou can feel his breath hot against the side of his neck. “How about a cute pet name? You can call me babe. Baby. Handsome. Sexy—”

“How about jackass,” Barou says, then gasps as Aiku’s lips brush his skin. He grabs tight onto the couch cushions, braced against how quickly his body responds to Aiku’s touch. 

“Shouei, do you like it when I kiss your neck like this?” Aiku demonstrates what he means, and Barou can’t suppress the full body shiver that follows. 

“Yes,” he grits out, voice cracking. 

Aiku’s hand lands on his thigh, petting over the muscle as he kisses into the crook of Barou’s neck. At least he can’t talk while his mouth is occupied, but it means the only sounds in the room are Barou’s heavy breathing, the slow exhales that border on groans, and far too quiet classical music. The hand on his thigh moves up and up with each stroke, up into the sensitive area right by his groin. Barou’s cock is filling out, slowly but unstoppably. 

When Aiku finally strokes over his erection, Barou can’t suppress his moan. Aiku breaks away from his neck, saying, “That was so sexy, Shou-chan. I can’t get enough of how you sound.”

“Sh-shut up,” Barou says weakly. 

“I won’t,” Aiku says simply, then surges up and kisses Barou’s cheek. “Hey, Shouei?”

Barou turns to him, cheeks hot. “What do you want?”

Aiku looks embarrassingly affectionate. He says, “Shou-chan, I’m going to die if I don’t get to suck your dick in the next four minutes. Do you want that to happen in here, or somewhere else?”

Barou stares at him, brain taking a swift vacation to his cock. 

Aiku clears his throat. “The dick sucking part, not the dying part. I’m trying to avoid that.”

Barou’s mouth opens, and he knows he shouldn’t do anything in here where anyone could walk in, but he also can’t make himself say anything that would prolong the amount of time before Aiku’s back between his knees.

Aiku adds, “Raichi’s doing extra drills with Aryu and Gen tonight.” He holds up his phone. “Defense squad group chat, baby. Wanna go to your room?”

“Fuck, yes,” Barou says, with relief.  

“Let’s go,” Aiku says, jumping up and damn near pulling Barou after him. “Remember, I only have three and a half minutes left to live.”

 

Aiku’s mouth feels just as good as he remembers. Better, even, because now Barou worries less about containing himself. When he’s lying spent on his back, Aiku leans off the edge of the mattress to dig through the pockets of his discarded pants. After a moment, he pops back up with his phone and a couple condoms in hand. 

“I got tested again,” Aiku says brightly. “Twice, actually. Once after you, and then once yesterday, since apparently it takes longer after exposure to get consistent results. I’m good to go, by the way.”

Barou takes Aiku’s phone, scrolling through the offered results. “I’m surprised you don’t have advanced syphilis,” he says. “It would explain your erratic behavior.”

“I’m going to choose to believe that you’re making a very funny joke,” Aiku tells him, settling back against his side. “So, what do you think? Wanna get fucked?”

Barou shuts his eyes, remembering when Aiku had fucked his tits, all the times he’s fantasized about Aiku taking him, but… “No,” he says with a sigh. “I’m comfortable. I don’t want to get up and prep.”

“Aw, I don’t really care about that if I’m using a condom,” Aiku says. Barou barely spends a second following that train of thought before he turns to Aiku in horror. Aiku quickly adds, “But you obviously care, so we’ll do it later.”

“Don’t ever say something that disgusting again,” Barou grumbles, sinking back against his pillows. “Give me thirty minutes, then I’ll get up.”

“Oh, hell yeah!”

“And tell Raichi not to interrupt us.”

“You want me to sexile your roommate for you? That feels like an abuse of my captain powers, somehow.”

Barou opens one eye to look at Aiku. “That’s your problem.”

Aiku leans in, kisses his cheek, and then says, “Nope. Text him yourself, Shou-chan.”

“This is beneath me,” Barou mutters, but rolls over to grab his phone anyway. His texts with Raichi are sparse, both having learned to largely steer clear of each other. Raichi knows how to keep clean, at least, and Barou uses earplugs to handle the snoring. He even lets Raichi join him on the early morning runs he does on the weekends. Despite Raichi’s general inferiority, Barou has to admit that keeping up with him is a decent challenge.

The last message in the chat was from Raichi, letting him know he was done with the washer and dryer, if Barou wanted to wash his clothes. 

Grimacing, Barou types out a message. 

[The King]: Stay in your twink’s room tonight.

In the few minutes before Raichi replies, Barou tolerates Aiku feeling him up, grabbing at his chest, playing with his hair. Even if it’s completely different than with his sisters, he was still used to them climbing all over him back at home like he was a human fucking jungle gym. It’s probably been a year since he’s been touched so much—and since there was anyone whose touch he’d tolerate. Having Aiku all over him is surprisingly pleasant. His phone pings. 

[Sexy Soccer!!!]: Don’t give me fucking orders!! Like hell I’m not sleeping in my own bed!! I’ve been working my ass off all night, jerkoff!! And Ranze isn’t a twink!!!

“Motherfucker.”

“What?” Aiku asks, crawling over his chest to look at his screen. “Aw, Rai-chan does love exclamation marks.”

“Rai-chan?” Barou says, outrage joining his annoyance. Aiku kisses his nose, making Barou sputter and curse. 

“Rai-chan is one of my precious defenders,” Aiku says firmly. “I’m so happy you two get along. You should tell him why you want the room for the night.”

“I’m not telling that halfwit my business,” Barou snarls. 

“He’s nicer than you think,” Aiku says blithely. But not smarter, Barou mentally notes.

“You just like people who yell at you,” Barou grunts, wrenching himself into a sitting position. 

“And you’re so, so good at yelling at me,” Aiku says, his tone saccharine. “But Raichi’s really a great team player. He doesn’t get enough credit.”

“I know,” Barou says, glaring at Aiku. The only thing he likes less than complimenting people is the implication he knows less than someone. 

With a heavy sigh, he opens the camera on his phone. “Come here,” he orders. Aiku obeys immediately, throwing an arm around Barou’s shoulder and resting his cheek on top of Barou’s head. 

“We’re so cute,” Aiku coos. 

“You’re full of shit,” Barou grunts, staring deadpan at the camera while he takes the picture. It looks as expected: Barou stares at the camera like he’s got a grudge, and Aiku looks like he’s having the best night of his life. It’s clear they’re naked, and in bed. Intimate. 

Barou may keep this picture. 

[The King]: Image attached. 

[Sexy Soccer!!!]: WOAH IS THAT AIKU
[Sexy Soccer!!!]: U GUYS FUCK????? NASTYYYY
[Sexy Soccer!!!]: Lmfao can’t believe Aiku’s taking it up the ass lol this is the best day of my life
[Sexy Soccer!!!]: K I get why you want the room. Also I don’t wanna deal with Aiku’s blue balls tmr. He’s SO annoying when he can’t get laid
[Sexy Soccer!!!]: OR I GUESS YOUD KNOW THAT LOL
[Sexy Soccer!!!]: Just put some clothes and my toothbrush outside the door and I won’t bug ya lovebirds ;P

Fucking finally. 

[The King]: K. Thx. 

Raichi is going to be insufferable now, but that’s nothing new. At least Barou’s getting fucked in this case. 

By the time they’re ready, it’s getting late. The two-bed dorm rooms have private bathrooms, otherwise there’s no way Barou would go this far. Barou doesn’t rush prep, methodical and thorough as always. Has been ever since the first time he looked up how to do it right—the only concession is the lack of distilled water (the sanctity of his gastrointestinal microbiome must not be disturbed). Maybe he can get some later.  

Regardless, Aiku looks at him with such blatant lust when he emerges from the bathroom that Barou momentarily forgets his gripes. Aiku’s waiting for him on his bed, naked, legs spread, slowly stroking his cock like he’s been edging himself this whole time. Every inch of him oozes confidence and sex, a rock-hard reminder of why Barou wants him in the first place. 

“Hey, handsome,” Aiku says, his typical grin plastered on his face. 

Barou ignores him, instead claiming his place above Aiku’s hips. Aiku quits playing with himself to hold Barou’s thighs instead, an unnecessary, but pleasant and steadying presence. Barou likes this vantage point, looking down at Aiku beneath him and receiving 100% of Aiku’s attention. Aiku rolls a condom down the length of his cock without taking his eyes from Barou’s face, a little too practiced, but maybe that’s for the best. 

Aiku’s hands go from Barou’s thighs to his ass, squeezing briefly as his eyes flutter shut. He mutters something that sounds kind of like Latin, then says, “Can I finger you? God, your ass is so nice. I wanna play with your hole, Shou-chan.”

Barou gives him a look. “Do you have gloves? If you touch my ass without them, you’re not going to be touching anything else.”

Aiku nods to himself. “I’ll pick some up next time I’m in town.” 

Barou huffs in approval, and starts carefully lowering himself towards Aiku’s cock. He’s excited. Eager in a way he hadn’t expected to be; he rode Tsukasa a few times, but Tsukasa was just… smaller than him. If Barou’s being fair, Tsukasa was perfectly average, and perfectly fit—Aiku is just a giant, compared to the average Japanese male. 

A giant that Barou’s going to ride. 

“Uh, Shou-chan,” Aiku says distractedly, “I’m not the type to just shove it in, but if I can’t touch your hole at all…”

“Just don’t stick your fingers inside,” Barou says impatiently. He’s perfectly aware of his body’s capabilities, and Aiku suits him perfectly. “Come on, Aiku. I can take you.”

Aiku hesitates, playing the careful lover for a few moments longer. Barou can see precisely when he gives in, pupils blown in his odd-colored eyes. 

“Shou-chan, you shouldn’t talk like that. I’m gonna want to get rough with you,” Aiku says with a slight growl to his voice. 

He takes his cock in hand as he talks, and Barou can feel the lube-slick head of his cock pressing against his hole. Barou makes himself relax, shutting his eyes while Aiku pushes the head of his cock inside him. The stretch is intense, but the twinge of pain is inconsequential to Barou. He wants to take more. 

“I always mean what I say,” Barou tells Aiku, easing himself down another inch. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“Shouei,” Aiku growls, putting his free hand on top of one of Barou’s thighs, holding him in place while he drives his hips up. Barou’s eyes shoot open, shocked by the sudden, merciless stretch. It verges just on the edge of too much, which makes it perfect. Barou grits his teeth, plants a hand on Aiku’s chest, and pushes back against Aiku, taking him as deep as possible.  

Aiku curses, tense under Barou, gripping him tight and holding completely still. 

“Is this all you’ve got?” Barou prods. Aiku glares at him through narrowed eyes. 

“No, King-sama. But I do need a second to make sure I don’t blow my load like a fucking virgin. Your ass is so tight, fuck. Fuck.” 

“Hmph. Fine.” Barou settles on Aiku’s lap, getting comfortable, breathing through the eye-watering stretch. Aiku takes slow breaths as well, getting himself under control in a show of effort that’s fairly flattering. Barou’s cock is making a strong attempt to revive, half-hard where it lays on Aiku’s stomach. 

“You’re so unbelievably hot,” Aiku mutters, shaking his head. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Then fuck me,” Barou snaps. He’s sick of being patient. 

Aiku smiles and traces a finger down Barou’s cock. “Demanding King. You have no idea how bad I wanna tease you. Provoke you. It gets me so hot.”

Barou can tell; he can intimately feel Aiku’s cock throb hard inside him while he talks. 

“Don’t test me,” Barou growls. 

“I won’t,” Aiku says, leisurely running his hands over the parts of Barou he can reach before settling on Barou’s waist. His eyes darken. “Not tonight, at least.”

Barou suppresses a shudder. Aiku’s no striker, but he might be Barou’s match in the bedroom. He wants to push Aiku, wants Aiku to push him, but Aiku’s right—

“Not tonight,” Barou echoes. “You can piss me off another time, but I still need you to fuck. Me. Now.”

“Right, right. Sorry, baby, didn’t know your hole was that needy,” Aiku says with a smile. Incensed, Barou smacks Aiku’s chest hard in retaliation, but Aiku doesn’t even flinch. He does jerk his hips up, lifting most of Barou’s body weight with just his core. It feels like his cock drives impossibly deeper.

“Oh, fuck,” Barou gasps. He’s so full, so fucking full it leave no room for anything else, no thoughts, feelings, nothing but the sensation of being stuffed full of cock. Aiku doesn’t relent, he just barely pulls out then grinds up into him over and over. 

When Barou can catch his breath, he adjusts so Aiku’s cock curves perfectly against his prostate and his nerves fucking light up. He’s never been fucked like this, he didn’t even know it could feel like this. Wound tight, full of hot pleasure, his cock aching and untouched as it firms up.

“That good, baby?” Aiku asks, sounding breathless, and Barou realizes he’s been moaning, unrestricted because it is that good.

“Aiku,” Barou gasps, barely keeping his balance thanks to the hand braced on Aiku’s chest. 

“Good,” Aiku says, squeezing Barou’s waist. “That’s just what I wanna see. Gotta get you all fucked-out and sweet for me.” 

“Sh-shut up,” Barou manages to say between punched-out breaths. Pleasure is building quickly, his body still so sensitive from the earlier blowjob. He’s fully hard now, his cock long and thick and heavy over Aiku’s abs, leaking copiously. Barou’s certain he’ll shoot off the moment he touches it, that’s how good he feels. 

“Had no idea you could take cock so well,” Aiku says, hitting his stride. 

Barou’s retort dies on his tongue at Aiku’s next thrust. If Aiku’s going to fuck Barou like this, he’s earned the right to run his mouth. Barou just focuses on riding him, feeling first-hand Aiku’s implacable strength, watching how Aiku’s muscles move in perfect sync, his powerful core, his steady hands. Every thrust feels like it’s punching pleasure deep, up through his gut, coming out his mouth in hoarse groans.

Then Aiku’s hands clamp down on his obliques, holding him still while he slides his cock most of the way out. The sudden increase of friction on Barou’s sensitive rim makes him jolt. The ruthless push back in makes him moan involuntarily, obscene and unguarded. 

Aiku curses, and does it again. And again, and Barou’s never been fucked like this, never had an orgasm fucked out of him like this, but it’s bound to happen all the same. 

“Aiku,” Barou growls urgently, eyes narrowed, his face and chest warm from his racing pulse.

“Having fun?” Aiku pants. His grin is sharp-toothed and nasty, a far cry from his typical, playful demeanor. Barou likes him that much better for it. 

“Fuck,” Barou pants, “off.” 

Frustrated, he grabs for his cock, wrapping his hand around the swollen head. He was close before, but touching his dick takes him straight to the edge. His muscles lock up, eyes flying open at the violent pleasure. 

“Oh, you just got so tight,” Aiku rasps, fingertips digging into Barou’s sides. “Oh, fuck, Shou-chan, you’re squeezing my cock so good, I’m gonna cum like this.”

“Not before me,” Barou snarls, throwing as much venom behind the words as he can. His balls feel tight again, drawn up by the base of his cock and throbbing in time with his pulse. 

“Then cum quick,” Aiku growls back at him. The veins on his forearms are standing out, nose wrinkled in a snarl that echoes Barou’s. He’s so—so infuriatingly attractive. 

Barou widens his eyes at him, trying for sarcasm. “Then keep fucking me.”

Aiku keeps eye contact, pulling out to thrust back in deep. Barou nearly spills over just from that. 

“I’m gonna make you beg, someday,” Aiku says under his breath. 

“I’m gonna,” kill you, Barou wants to say, but Aiku hits his prostate just right and suddenly all that pleasure pulls tight and snaps. His hole clamps down involuntarily, spine going rigid, his cock kicking weakly as he shoots his second load of the night. 

Aiku follows moments after, grinding up into Barou, eyes rolling back as he groans. Barou can feel him throb, can even feel the well of hot cum building in the tip of the condom. Time blurs from there, Barou feeling spent and hazy, and Aiku shuddering through the end of his orgasm. Eventually he softens enough to easily slip from Barou, and Barou sits fully on Aiku’s pelvis. 

Aiku’s grip on his waist has turned gentle, petting over Barou’s hips, the tops of his thighs. 

He feels good, body still buzzing with pleasure in a way he can’t hope to hide. Overexposed. It’s been one new thing after another tonight, and Barou’s head is swimming with it. And he’s dirty, sweaty, vulnerable in front of Aiku and suddenly it’s all too much. He lets his head hang, eyes narrowed as he tries to sort his thoughts back into something that feels like himself. Unmoving, a hand still on Aiku’s ribs. He flinches slightly when Aiku’s hand runs up his forearm. 

“Shou-chan, how’re you feeling?” Aiku sounds lazy, as fucked-out as Barou feels but far more relaxed.

Barou grunts in reply. Of course that’s not enough for Aiku. His ears are ringing, he notices. He doesn’t want Aiku to know he’s feeling anything out of the norm. 

“Shouei? Hey, can I see your face?” Aiku tries again. So fucking persistent. 

Barou clenches his teeth, grits out, “Give me some fucking space, Aiku.”

He awkwardly climbs from Aiku’s lap, shoulders hunched, face turned away as he focuses on breathing. 

“Poor Barou-chan,” Aiku drawls, and Barou’s hackles rise. At least it’s not a newly intimate name this time, and Aiku’s teasing tone is familiar. Aiku says, “did I make you cum too hard?”

“Oh, you bastard,” Barou bites out, rounding on him—but now that he’s looking at Aiku, his anger dies just as quickly. For all his tasteless provocation, Aiku looks nothing but openly affectionate. 

“There you are,” Aiku says, holding his gaze. “It was a lot for me too, you know. I think my legs are actually numb from cumming so hard. Straight up blacked out a little,” he laughs. 

“Maybe ‘cause I was sitting on you, dumbass,” Barou says derisively, but Aiku just shakes his head. 

“Nope. Definitely ‘cause I jizzed my brains out. There’s so much cum in that condom, wanna see? It’s in the trash over there.”

The jagged thing that had been building behind Barou’s ribs suddenly breaks, falling to pieces as Barou laughs in pure scandalized disbelief, doubled-over and wheezing. Aiku scoots over, draping an arm over Barou’s shoulders, nuzzling up against his cheek. 

“Barou, Barou,” Aiku says lazily, “eventually I wanna know how you’re doing. Doesn’t have to be now.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Barou grunts, but the truth is that he feels better, like Aiku’s outrageous behavior was some kind of fucked-up lodestone for Barou’s internal compass of normalcy. He puts a hand on Aiku’s thigh, an olive branch extended. Aiku’s free hand joins his. Their fingers intertwine. 

It’s a tolerable level of intimacy.  

Eventually Aiku says, “I’ll go get the wipes.” 

He disentangles their fingers, lets go of Barou’s shoulders, and even if Barou thought he’d wanted space this is definitely worse. Reflex kicks in before he thinks better of it, and his arm shoots out to grab the hair on the back of Aiku’s head, pulling him back down to the mattress. Aiku doesn’t fight it and tumbles backwards, looking up at Barou with wide eyes.

Barou’s not an idiot. He knows he should communicate better, but it’s just not gonna happen right now. Instead, he leans over Aiku until their noses brush. Then he kisses him, right on the mouth, eyes squeezed shut. 

After a moment, Aiku embraces him, arms wrapping around Barou’s shoulders, fingers running through the short hairs on the back of his neck. Barou shivers. It feels good enough that he readjusts to fully climb over Aiku and kiss him properly. Aiku keeps one hand on the back of Barou’s head, the other one running over his shoulders and down his back.

“Barou-chan,” Aiku murmurs, lips moving against his. 

Barou sighs. “You can still call me Shouei.”

Aiku pulls back to look at him. “My benevolent king,” he says fondly.

Tyrant, villain, usurper… benevolent king is a new one. Trust Aiku to come up with that kind of nonsense, although he can’t bring himself to tell Aiku off when he’s looking up at Barou like that. He has pretty eyes, doesn’t he? 

“Time to clean up,” Barou says, clearing his throat and straightening up. 

“Okay, Shou-chan,” Aiku says. “Be right back.”

Not like he’s going far, but he does roll over to reach the pack, then roll back. Barou is absurdly reminded of a dog rolling around in grass. They clean up enough that Barou can tolerate lying in bed until Aiku says, very dramatically, that his legs can once again support his weight. 

Aiku pulls on a pair of Barou’s sweats—unnecessary, but Barou finds it satisfying anyway. Somehow, Aiku’s legs look muscled even through the loose fabric. 

“You’re staring,” Aiku says, leaning against the door. They’re on their way to hit the showers before sleeping and Barou, who’d been staring baldly at Aiku’s obliques, barely spares Aiku’s face a glance. 

“Got a problem with that?” He stands, closes the distance, and touches exactly where he’d been looking. Aiku hums, sounding interested as he folds his arms behind his head. Barou takes his time feeling up Aiku’s chest, then plants his hands on the door behind Aiku’s shoulders. Trapping him there, if Barou was actually able to trap Aiku anywhere he didn’t want to be. 

Barou gets right in Aiku’s face and says heavily, “You’re so hot it pisses me off. I’m gonna fucking stare if I want to.”

Aiku visibly preens, unintimidated as he grins right back at Barou. “Woah, Shou-chan, have you been eye-fucking me this whole time? I thought you were always glaring ‘cause I drive you nuts.”

“That too,” Barou snorts, pulling Aiku out of the way so he can open the door. 

Later, after they’ve showered and settled in bed, Aiku says, “Hey, Shou-chan. How about we go on a real date, sometime?”

Barou groans. “No. I told you, I’m not interested.”

“Just one little date, it’ll be fun.”

“It won’t.”

“It will! We can go bowling, or something.”

Barou sighs. “You really want to?”

Next to him, Aiku props himself up on an elbow, probably so he can properly look Barou in the face. The effect is spoiled by the near pitch black room. “Yeah,” Aiku says earnestly. 

Barou pinches his side. “In that case… No.”

Aiku falls back into the pillows, and Barou can practically hear his pout. 

Benevolent king that he is, Barou adds, “You can keep trying, though.”

Aiku’s laugh is soft. “Playing hard to get? You must really wanna keep me around.”

And yeah, Barou does.

Notes:

uhhhh barou's comment about syphilis is a reference to that one episode of house where the cute old lady has syphilis & is rly happy and horny granted i can't vouch for the accuracy of anything in that show. or in this fic, even, except that barou recounting when he first met aiku is from his light novel and beautifully gloriously canonical

i miss raichi...

thank you all so much for reading so far <33 i treasure your comments and kudos like little bugs that are cold outside & i need to let them into my mouth to keep them warm (please god get the meme reference) lets all look forward to finding out if aiku and barou can hack it together even though they're both like That

Chapter 6: still not a date

Notes:

i'm so sorry this took me so long to post. i got distracted by my aikusenbarou fic and you know how it goes. anyway, here we go!

Barou’s life swiftly returns to normal. His routine is already perfected, and sorting through his Aiku-shaped problems was only a temporary disruption—one of the benefits of dating a teammate is that Aiku already exists in his routine, and including him in his life is barely an adjustment. 

Aiku already shows up for his weekday early lifts, when he doesn’t sleep in. Aiku’s always at every practice. Aiku’s at every game, obviously, and in the cafeteria, the screening room, and Barou really hadn’t noticed how much time they spent together even before this dating ordeal. 

The changes are small. Barou’s preferred foresty background for meditation is sometimes swapped out for cityscapes when Aiku joins him. He stops tensing before each kiss, learning that Aiku is considerate enough to only initiate when he knows he’s hygienic to Barou’s standards. He learns Aiku knows how to braid hair, thanks to also having two sisters—how Aiku turned out so terrible with so many women in his life, Barou still can’t understand. 

The biggest surprise is how Aiku’s behavior changes. Barou was mentally prepared for Aiku’s horrific flirting to increase a hundredfold, to have to fend off persistent public displays of affection, or inappropriate comments and oversharing. But the only real difference is how often he catches Aiku watching him, the frequency with which their eyes meet, how Aiku’s touch lingers just a hair longer than it had before. 

That, and Aiku’s flirting becomes downright disgusting in private. Barou just… doesn’t really mind, as long as no else is there to see him attempt to keep his cool. 

Their relationship isn’t a secret. Barou is a private person by nature, and he doesn’t know what Aiku said to his various friends, but no one except Raichi’s kicked up a fuss. And Raichi was decent enough to keep his loud interrogation confined to their room, so Barou avoids talking to anyone about it for a blissful week or so. 

“You’ve been nicer lately,” Isagi says. He’d invited himself to Barou’s table in the cafeteria, a common occurrence when the elder Itoshi isn’t there to scare away the riff raff. 

“Go die in a ditch,” Barou grunts. He’s almost done with his lunch. Chigiri approaches with Kunigami in tow, whose tight under armour shirt is working overtime to contain all that muscle—Barou likes him better now that he looks less like someone who shits rainbows and flowers. 

“See, that still sounded kinda friendly somehow,” Isagi points out. Now there’s someone who’s still shitting out rainbows. Barou’s temper simmers hotter. 

Chigiri says, “Yeah, that’s ‘cause now he’s getting laid.”

“Bastard! Shut up!” Barou shouts. Isagi looks shocked, and Barou is strangely uncomfortable with the whole thing, with Isagi knowing he’s with someone else. The little twerp isn’t even his type, but… well. It had always been Isagi’s mind that interested Barou, not his body. 

“Ignore him,” Isagi says placatingly, “we’re only teasing because we care about you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kunigami says, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Barou considers punching the eyebags off his face. 

“Oh, was it a secret?” Chigiri said, twirling scarlet hair around a finger. “Oops.”

“All of you are a blight on humanity,” Barou says, then shoves rice into his mouth. The sooner he finishes, the sooner he leaves.

“So, who are you seeing?” Isagi asks, like they’re normal friends and this is a normal question. Barou absurdly misses Sae. Sae’s the only one who can still send these idiots running with just a word. Sae also always ignores him, which is a fucking godsend on this team. 

Chigiri gives Isagi a sidelong glance, eyes cool under long lashes, then says, “Someone who’s not good enough for him.” Then to Barou, “Sorry, but it’s true. He’s probably just trying to scam you into cleaning his room.”

Isagi seems to be spacing out, probably trying to metavision his way into Barou’s personal life. 

Barou chews, swallows, and says, “He doesn’t have to scam me for that, because Aiku’s an adult who knows how to pick up after himself. And, by the way, if you keep washing all your clothes together on high heat then they’re going to literally disintegrate.”

“Aiku-san?” Isagi squeaks. 

“Couldn’t metavision that one, huh,” Barou mutters under his breath. 

“What?” Isagi says. 

“Nothing,” says Barou. “Shut up.”

Across the cafeteria, Barou sees Sae take a few automatic steps towards their table, clock the number of people, and turn in the opposite direction. Reo and Nagi also head their way, Reo somehow managing to balance two trays of food and a useless boyfriend all at once with the grace of an expert waiter. Maybe he should quit being a billionaire and take up blue collar work. 

“Aiku, huh,” Kunigami says, his deep voice mellow. “Isn’t he straight?”

Isagi turns to him, concerned. “Dude, no. Once he told me he was—” Isagi blushes “—rock hard, during a match.”

“He what?” Kunigami chokes out. 

“He would,” Barou says with genuine disgust.

“Kinky,” Chigiri says thoughtfully, looking at Barou. “So, is that—”

“None of your business,” Barou interrupts loudly. “That freak does love to say the weirdest crap, though. I’m not surprised.”

“I’m surprised you let him,” Isagi says, blueberry eyes wide and round.  

“Don’t kinkshame the poor man,” Reo chimes in, deftly repositioning a bowl of miso soup before Nagi faceplants in it. 

“Now that I think about it, Nagi did ask us to chew his food for him once during the second selection,” Chigiri says, sounding disturbed. “Which carries implications.”

Nagi mumbles something, and Reo pets his head. “I only do it when he’s really tired,” Reo says with a gentle smile, like that’s a normal thing to say. 

Bile rises in Barou’s throat and he stands abruptly, grabbing his tray before Nagi or Reo contaminate it by proximity. 

“All of you—never speak to me again,” he announces, then marches off to steal Aiku from his friends. He needs a fucking palate cleanser. 

One of Aiku’s few good traits is his ability to sense when Barou wants his attention. Barou’s only a few steps towards his table when Aiku starts picking up his things, patting people on the back, waving goodbye and so on. Aiku meets him by the bussing area, standing just close enough for their shoulders to brush. 

Barou says, “You told Isagi you were rock hard?”

Aiku coughs. “Uh—only once.”

“How have you not been fired yet?” Barou mutters, clearing his tray. 

“It wasn’t specifically to him,” Aiku goes on, “it was just a really good game! Rai-chan had just started guarding Snuffy, and,”

“Raichi gets you hard?”

Aiku follows Barou from the cafeteria. “In my defense, he has the assets. But it was just like, y’know, a general comment.”

Raichi’s assets aside, Barou is increasingly disinterested in any of Aiku’s boners that don’t directly involve him. Speaking of— “We have the next hour free before match prep,” Barou says, checking the team schedule. “How about you do something better with your mouth than run it all day long?”

“Ooooh,” Aiku says, “hell yes.”

That’s the other major change. Major enough, apparently, that Isagi thinks Barou is becoming friendly (he is not). It can’t be helped, though, success always requires sacrifice—the success in this instance being how often Barou gets laid, and the sacrifice, well. There’s little he can do about his body’s natural production of dopamine, and he is unwilling to go a day without feeling Aiku’s tight throat wrapped around his cock. 

Aiku’s warm baritone voice has even gained a slight, but consistent rasp. It’s distractingly sexy, Barou thinks, and not just because he’s the source of the change. 

In Barou’s room, Aiku rises from his knees, lips wet and swollen from use. “Good?” he asks hoarsely. 

Barou shows his favor by cupping Aiku’s cheek and petting over his cheekbone with his thumb. “It was,” he says with approval. “Does my cocksucker want his reward?”

“Always,” Aiku says, turning to nip at Barou’s fingers. 

Sometimes, when they can’t use either of their rooms, they’ll do this in the nearest private space. Barou’s demanding nature makes him impatient when he wants something, which now includes receiving head from his boyfriend. Those times, he’ll reach down the front of Aiku’s pants and finish him like that, or occasionally let him rut against his clothed ass—nothing that gets too messy. 

“I wanna fuck you,” Aiku says sulkily. “But there’s not enough time.”

“You always do,” Barou says, unimpressed. Ignoring Aiku’s pout, he lays on his front and shoves a pillow under his hips. “Use my thighs, then.”

“Woah, good idea,” Aiku says, wasting no time in pulling out his dick. “Surprised you suggest it. Have you been thinking up dirty things for us to do, baby?”

Barou sighs heavily. “Hurry up, I don’t want to rush cleaning.”

“Yessir, King-sama sir,” Aiku says and climbs on top of him without another word. His eagerness is flattering. So are his moans as he shoves his cock between Barou’s thighs, and Barou is nice enough to keep his legs pressed together while Aiku lets him know just how good and tight it feels. 

Aiku pulls out and finishes into a wad of tissues, which is objectively gross but also considerate enough that Barou kisses his cheek once he settles down next to him.

After he catches his breath, Aiku says, “So what about dinner and a movie? What films do you like?”

“The Dark Knight. Stuff like that.” Barou closes his eyes, mentally preparing for the team meeting coming up all too soon.

“Gritty DC masterpieces,” Aiku says approvingly. “We could go see something like that. Have a nice little movie date. It’d be over before you know it.”

And waste two hours of his evening? 

“Not a chance.” 

 

With the World Cup preseason halfway over, pressure is mounting. Less so for Barou, who already pressures himself more on a daily basis than Ego pressures the rest of the team in general, but still means everyone is picking up the intensity. They have a greater number of practice matches, and eventually face off against a team with a defensive line nearly as good as the past U-20’s.

They have a wannabe Aiku, a center back whose huge frame and tactical mind make scoring a living hell. Barou sneaks a goal in near the beginning, and is shut out for the rest of the half. Then he gets benched so Ego can try and coax a chemical reaction out of Shidou and Isagi, which ends when Shidou gives Isagi a bloody nose for cockblocking him, i.e. preventing him from shooting the ball, or his proverbial load, into the goal, or the world’s proverbial womb. 

The fact Barou has to understand this much about Shidou’s worldview is a travesty, and he experiences a rare moment of regret for dedicating himself so thoroughly to defeating Isagi. If he hadn’t, then he’d be able to ignore these interactions and avoid such unsanitary things disrupting his mental health. Alas.

Rin scores the last goal of the game, thanks to Isagi being on the bench for bleeding copiously, and Shidou for getting a well-deserved red card. The only reason they don’t lose is their own defense blocking a thousand shot attempts. The only two goals they managed to score was when Aiku was benched, apparently to let the second string get some game experience. Aiku claims he doesn’t mind, but Barou can see the way he seethes behind that smile—he doesn’t like being off the field anymore than Barou does. 

It’s a draw. Barou’s temper is foul throughout their debrief session, his irritation obvious enough that everyone in the locker room rightfully avoids him. If he’d scored again, Ego would’ve kept him in. They would’ve won. He can’t forgive their team for letting that defense get the better of them. They should be better—they have Aiku to train against on a daily basis. 

Barou angrily soaps up his hair, fingertips scrubbing away at his scalp. If he’s being fair, they all struggle to score against Aiku even in drills. Aiku is also getting constant practice against high-level strikers, and he’s miles better than he was during the Blue Lock vs. U-20 match. And he was excellent even back then. 

When Barou had been on the Ubers, he’d done extra training against Aiku and Lorenzo on a near daily basis, in either 1v1s or 1v2s, which were nearly impossible and therefore perfect for Barou’s need for hardship. 

He hadn’t planned to stop once they’d formed the new U-20. He’d just gotten a little bit of tunnel vision on Isagi, who was back in his sights in a far more immediate sense, and Aiku was devoted to returning to his captain duties. 

That’s when it hits Barou that he’s dating arguably the best defender in Japan, and he’s not taking advantage of that to improve his game? 

He rinses his hair thoroughly, annoyed with himself for blaming his team when he’s the one squandering obvious resources. He spends the rest of his shower mentally going through what training he wants to do with Aiku—well, that and meticulously cleaning his body, like always. 

Barou corners Aiku after dinner, which is profoundly easy. Aiku knows how to make himself available for cornering, and follows Barou to an empty screening room without complaint. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Aiku starts talking. 

“Mad about the match today?” Aiku asks with a knowing look, then says, “Me too.”

“You couldn’t have blocked those goals from the bench,” Barou points out. “I should’ve scored more.”

Aiku waves a hand. “I need to train up our defensive line even better. I’ll take responsibility.”

Barou crosses his arms, scanning Aiku’s face. Had he even noticed that they’d stopped training together as frequently after the Ubers?

“Why’d we stop training 1v1s?” Barou asks bluntly. Aiku looks taken aback, then thoughtful. 

“I’m not sure I ever really meant to,” Aiku says slowly. “I was making an effort to get to know the other strikers, at first. You know, since I already knew you so well. Can’t have people say I’m playing favorites,” he adds with a wink. 

Something in Barou’s chest tightens. He doesn’t know why, but somehow he resents that Aiku didn’t ask him out earlier, if he was so fucking special. He’s beginning to realize that he’s been fond of Aiku for longer than he allowed himself to acknowledge. 

He refuses to voice such an insipid thought, and instead says, “We’re going to start them up again.”

Aiku raises his eyebrows. “Oh, are we? A new order from the king himself?”

Barou’s lip curls, but before he can properly get angry, Aiku pulls out his phone and opens the team schedule. “We’ll need to plan more carefully than when we were on the Ubers,” Aiku adds. “My schedule is a bit more hectic now.”

Barou had never noticed Aiku’s schedule being especially complicated. “You always have time to hang around me,” he points out, and Aiku gives him a melting smile. 

“Yeah, Shou-chan, ‘cause I make time for you on purpose.”

Barou clears his throat, taken aback at feeling so touched. “Uh. You do that?”

Aiku steps closer, tucking his fingers in the waistband of Barou’s track pants to tug him closer. “I do. Now that I think about it, I think I did it even before we got together. Isn’t that something?”

Barou lifts his chin and looks off to the side above Aiku’s head. His heartbeat is pounding in his ribcage from the mere implication Aiku cared so much for him back then. 

“It’s something,” Baraou agrees gruffly. 

Aiku hums in response, then his head dips and he’s kissing at the crook of Barou’s neck, soft and lingering. 

“I missed training with you all the time,” Aiku murmurs against his skin. Barou’s hands go to Aiku’s waist, gripping his built obliques. That wannabe center back could never measure up to the real thing, Barou thinks. 

“If you go easy on me ‘cause we’re together, I’ll kill you,” Barou says, his voice heavy and low with arousal. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Aiku purrs, nipping at the tendon in the side of Barou’s neck as if to reprimand him for saying something so offensive. Then he lays his head on Barou’s shoulder, saying, “I wanna be the best defender, y’know. Can’t be half-assing shit if I want to keep improving.”

“Damn straight.” Barou’s hands squeeze Aiku’s sides reflexively.

“It’ll still be fun though,” Aiku says dreamily. “Like a little training date.”

Barou snorts. “Not a date.”

“Aw, why not? A soccer date would be perfect for us. If we train late, the locker rooms’ll be empty and I can blow you in a shower stall.”

Barou squeezes Aiku’s sides hard, on purpose this time. “Not a fucking date, loser. And you’ll suck me off anyway.”

Aiku laughs into his neck. “Aw, Shou-chan, you know me so well.”

 

Resuming their 1v1s are a good idea. To Barou’s relief, Aiku does take the training as seriously as he did before, if not more so. Occasionally other people even join them, but on the nights they remain alone, Barou does let Aiku suck him off in the locker rooms. 

The first time they do it, Aiku steps into Barou’s shower stall like he’s trying to be sly, then wraps his arms around Barou’s waist and kisses at his shoulders. It’s funny how Aiku thinks he’s instigating, when Barou used one of the two private shower stalls for a fucking reason.

“You’re not too tired for some fun, right?” Aiku says, sliding his hands from Barou’s hips to the tops of his thighs, then inwards. Heat flashes through Barou’s core. 

“Nope,” Barou says. “Wait until I rinse my hair, or you’re going to get shampoo in your mouth.”

Aiku pauses, then turns Barou around so they’re looking at each other. “You’re really okay with this? I mean, there’s no lock or anything. Hypothetically, anyone could walk in.”

Barou frowns, annoyed that Aiku’s hands have stopped their progression towards Barou’s cock. Just because his body has been worked to exhaustion doesn’t mean his libido is dead in the water. 

“I don’t care. Are you saying you’re bothered by it?” Barou asks. Aiku blinks water from his eyes, lashes thick and dark. 

“Um. No. I mean, I think it’s kinda hot. You know risk does it for me.”

Barou’s lip curls. “Yeah, I bet it does. Freak.”

“Oh? Are you any better?” Aiku’s hands have begun to sneak back towards Barou’s cock.

“I don’t have your weird fetish,” Barou says haughtily, although it is kind of hot, now that he thinks about it. “I just don’t give a fuck if some dumbass stumbles in here and gets all bent out of shape about it. If I wanna get sucked off, then I will.” Barou pauses, thinking, then adds, “As long as it’s somewhere clean.”

“Ah, of course.” Aiku finally strokes down the length of Barou’s cock and says, “As long as you’re getting yours, fuck how anyone else feels, isn’t that right?”

Barou grunts, unable to speak when Aiku’s playing with the tip of his cock like that. 

“That’s my selfish king,” Aiku says, sounding pleased. “Go on and rinse your hair, your highness. Then I’ll choke down your cock.”

Barou grabs the shower head and gets to it. 

 

They don’t just physically train. Barou also asks Aiku to review and critique his game tapes, and eventually he feels like their efforts are bearing fruit. He scores a hat trick in another practice match, finding it strangely effortless to cut through the opponent’s defense. As long as he could get even a 1v2 situation, he can break through. 

The opposing defense was fairly weak, to be fair. The other strikers on their team score their fair share of goals, but Barou can see it on Aiku’s face—he’s improved. 

It feels fucking great, and not just because the other team’s strikers look utterly crushed. It’s also because, despite himself, he’s kind of proud of Aiku. As a teammate, and as a boyfriend. Maybe he deserves a reward. 

The next time they’re alone after practice and Aiku goes to suck him off, Barou stops him. 

“Everything okay, Shou-chan?” Aiku asks with affected concern, as though Barou will die without regular fellatio (Barou won’t die, but other people might when he kills them in a fit of sexually frustrated rage). 

“I’ll do you, this time,” Barou says matter-of-factly. 

Aiku’s jaw drops. “You—what? In here?” 

Barou is glad he didn’t ask if he was sure, because he might act the coward and take the easy out. He’s never done this before. It’d be so much easier to let Aiku always be the one performing oral, but… he wants to know what it’s like. Aiku seems to enjoy it, at least. 

Aiku adds, sensing his hesitation, “I’d just be pissed if we got interrupted, you know?”

Barou nods shortly. “Yes, but you’re washing it first. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Ah, can’t have a dirty penis going in your mouth,” Aiku says, eyebrows raised. “Well, you can supervise and make sure—”

“I’ll wash it for you,” Barou says quickly, before he can change his mind. 

Aiku loses some of his typical sleaze, looking at Barou more keenly. “That sounds nice, Shou-chan. Want to move to the communal room? No one’s in there, and then I can sit down.”

Barou shrugs. Doesn’t matter to him. 

“It’s just that my legs are about to give out after all our training, and I’ll probably collapse as soon as you touch my junk,” Aiku adds cheerfully, leading the way. Barou follows, swallowing against his suddenly dry mouth.

The communal showers are more suited to this, anyway. Barou pulls over another stool to sit on, and gets Aiku all situated with his legs spread. Aiku waits patiently while Barou sets the water to pleasantly warm, making sure the flow isn’t too strong, that he has gentle soap on hand as well as several washcloths. 

Why does he feel so nervous? He’s handled Aiku’s cock plenty of times, and this is just… cleaning him. 

“Should I do anything?” Aiku asks, fairly neutrally. 

“Just do what I tell you,” Barou says. His voice sounds rough, maybe from exhaustion post-practice, or maybe because of how Aiku is so obediently spreading his muscular thighs.

Aiku leans back, hands holding the edge of the stool behind him. Like this, all of him is put on display, damp skin gleaming under the locker room’s bright overhead lights. Barou’s gaze travels up Aiku’s body, his pronounced v cut, his dark happy trail, the light hair on his chest, his broad shoulders, his strong jaw and kind eyes. 

Feeling abruptly and inexplicably self-conscious, Barou looks down and gets to work. He runs over Aiku’s inner thighs with a soapy washcloth first, working his way in towards the genitals. It reminds him of when they’d shared the private onsen, except now he understands his urge to handle Aiku gently: it’s the simple fact that he cares for him.

By the time he’s washed Aiku’s happy trail and nicely-trimmed pubes, Aiku’s cock has begun filling out. When Barou takes him in hand, Aiku sighs softly, strong thigh muscles twitching slightly. 

“Shouei,” Aiku says quietly. 

Barou looks up, bracing himself against the eye contact. It feels overwhelming, though he refuses to look away. 

“I like this,” Aiku tells him, then glances down between them at his half-chub. “I guess that was obvious, huh?”

“You should still tell me,” Barou says roughly, looking back down and trying to digest the mix of relief and pride—Aiku’s enjoying this; he’s not just indulging Barou’s strange need because he’s that nice.  

“Alright,” Aiku says. Barou feels him lean in and kiss the top of his head. “Please keep going, then.”

Barou tries to ignore him and focuses on the task at hand. He washes Aiku’s balls next, handling him carefully as he lathers and rinses them, and probably massages them a little longer than strictly necessary. But he can hear Aiku’s slow, heavy breathing and see the way his cock is rising, both things Barou finds rather gratifying. 

Next, he lets Aiku’s cock lay across his palm, and wipes over it slowly with a warm, damp cloth. He reminds himself he’s going to put his mouth on this, and he should be practical about washing it off and be done with it—except he can’t ignore the rush of having Aiku be so vulnerable in his hands.

He uses the showerhead with low pressure to wash off any lather, and moves on to the head of Aiku’s cock. Barou picks up a clean washcloth, which he uses to clean over Aiku’s foreskin. Aiku breathes out heavily, but doesn’t move. His cock is getting visibly harder, enough for his foreskin to reveal the leaky tip of his cock.

Barou rubs a thumb over it, wiping away the precome with a sigh. 

“Yeah, that’s just gonna keep happening,” Aiku murmurs. “Not much I can do about that.” 

“How dirty,” Barou murmurs, watching another bead of precome form. Aiku starts to say something, but Barou bends down and delicately licks the drop away with the tip of his tongue. Salty, but not terrible, he thinks, ignoring how Aiku’s thighs clamp around his shoulders. 

“Oh, oh fuck,” Aiku groans, then relaxes his thighs. His voice sounds wrecked when he says, “Shouei, you’re almost done, right? I want your mouth so bad.”

Barou looks up at him coolly. “Almost. Hold still.”

Aiku nods quickly, muscles tensing then relaxing as he tries to obey. Barou huffs softly under his breath, then gently retracts Aiku’s foreskin the rest of the way. He already looks clean, but Barou still uses a small amount of gentle body soap to clean the exposed glans. 

It looks so lewd just lying in Barou’s hand, the head of Aiku’s cock swollen with arousal and leaking all by itself. He feels his own cock throb, and a swift glance down reveals that Barou is rock hard. Just from washing Aiku off. He keeps his head ducked down, hiding his rising flush. Aiku may have his fair share of kinks, but… this is working for Barou on an unprecedented level. 

Abruptly, he decides he can’t wait any longer. 

“Done,” he announces, letting go of Aiku all at once. Barou catches Aiku’s gaze flick down to his erection, before returning to his face. 

“Looks like you enjoyed this, too,” Aiku says, sounding too interested. 

“Shut up,” Barou snaps. “Where are we going to—to finish this?”

Aiku says he’ll just kick Karasu out of their room, citing apparently numerous times he’d made himself scarce for Karasu and Kiyora. At any rate, Karasu is nowhere in sight by the time they reach Aiku’s room. Aiku locks the door behind him, then turns to Barou. 

“It’s your show, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Strip. Sit on the edge of the bed.”

Aiku swoops in to peck him on the cheek before obeying, making an obvious show as he pulls off his clothes. Then he’s sitting, legs spread once again, and all that’s left is for Barou to get on his knees and suck his cock. 

Something in him rebels. Should a king really be getting on his knees? His pride roots his feet in place while Aiku patiently waits. Part of him expects Aiku to tease him for it, or goad him, to point out how inherently degrading it is—even as he thinks it, Barou knows calling it degrading is reductive. And kinda unfair to Aiku, who performs the act on him near-daily without complaint. Barou doesn’t feel like he’s degrading Aiku when he uses his mouth, anyway. 

Besides, he’s already decided to do this. It’s nothing to get worked up over, and he also just wants to know what it’s like. If he doesn’t do it with Aiku, then who? The thought of kneeling between anyone else’s legs makes him feel the threat of a looming migraine, so he puts it out of mind and settles down between Aiku’s thighs. 

“No jokes about getting a king on his knees?” Barou finds himself asking as he glares up at Aiku, who merely tilts his head with perfect boyish innocence. 

“Are you kidding? Of course you’re not kidding,” Aiku amends with a half-smile. “No, no jokes, Shou-chan. I’d bite my tongue off before saying anything that’d make you change your mind about this.”

“Hah, looks like you know your place,” Barou says.

“Sure do,” Aiku says easily, “it’s wherever you want me. Isn’t that right, King?”

“Good peasant,” Barou huffs, briefly amused. “Listen—you can touch me, but don’t fucking jerk my head around or anything.” Like he does to Aiku.

“Got it,” Aiku nods fervently.

“And you should tell me if I’m doing anything wrong,” Barou mutters, looking away. Asking for critique is only marginally worse than knowing he’s performing poorly. 

“W-wrong?” Aiku sounds confused.

“I haven’t done this before, obviously,” Barou snaps. 

”Oh, shit,” Aiku swears. “Oh, fuck me, that’s hot.”

“You can’t be surprised about that,” Barou scoffs. 

“I was distracted!” Aiku protests. “You were touching my dick, I wasn’t thinking about anything. Damn, okay, I’ll tell you if there’s anything. Though honestly, short of biting off my dick, I’m gonna be happy no matter what.”

“So easy,” Barou says with a curled lip, even though it’s affectionate. He runs a finger up the underside of Aiku’s cock, watching how it twitches immediately. Another shiny drop of precome forms. “Easy,” Barou repeats.

Aiku just hums happily. “Toldja, I’m easy for you and if you use your mouth, I’m gonna get even easier.”

Barou bites his tongue to keep from laughing. He won’t give Aiku the satisfaction, but he does take Aiku in both hands. Aiku’s head tips back, baring his throat as he moans softly, turning his genuine enjoyment into a show just for Barou. 

After a long, steading breath, Barou lets his tongue poke out between his lips, and gingerly licks the tip again, eyes narrowed as the salty taste crosses his palate. Aiku’s whole body tenses, he gasps, but manages to stay still. 

“Good,” Barou tells him, swallowing the taste of precome. It’s not terrible. He licks up the underside of Aiku’s cock next, holding it in place with one hand, steading himself on Aiku’s thigh with the other. The advantage of this is that he can feel Aiku’s thigh muscles tense and jump each time Barou tongues him. Poor, sensitive guy. 

Now that he’s actually doing it, it’s not nearly as revolting as he’d expected, and far less revolting than kissing. Likely thanks to his own efforts, but Aiku just tastes like clean skin and a faint hint of the soap Barou had used. Reassured, Barou fits the head of Aiku’s cock into his mouth. Aiku’s answering groan sounds sweet and surprised. He looks down at Barou, eyes wide, lips parted. Barou can feel his cock throb in his mouth.

Yeah, Barou likes making Aiku look like that. He recalls what Aiku often does to him, and closes his lips around the head with gentle suction and laps at his frenulum. Aiku shudders, gasping, eyes locked on Barou every time Barou looks up to check on him.

Barou continues in this manner, focused on recreating how Aiku handles him. It creates a positive feedback effect, where Aiku’s predictable enjoyment just makes Barou more intent on his task. He builds up slowly, until he is stroking Aiku’s shaft in his fist in time with when he takes Aiku’s cock deeper in his mouth. 

“Why—why are you already sucking cock like a pro,” Aiku groans happily. 

An exaggeration, though Aiku looks far gone enough to actually believe what he’s saying. Barou pulls off his cock enough to talk. “It ain’t hard, idiot. I pay attention when you blow me.” 

Aiku sighs out another moan, and says, “Well, you’re a natural.”

Barou narrows his eyes at him, retaining what dignity he can when Aiku’s wet tip is nudging against his cheek. “Is that so.”

“Mhm,” Aiku says with satisfaction, “and I’m gonna cum real quick if you keep it up.”

Thoughtfully, Barou strokes down the length of Aiku’s cock. “Hmph. Well, don’t make a mess when you do.”

It’s Aiku’s turn to squint at him. “It’ll probably be a bit messy, baby. Can’t help that.”

Barou looks away, eyes tracking the soft curls of navy hair on Aiku’s inner thighs. “I’ll just do what you do. Then you won’t make a mess.”

There’s a long pause, during which Barou feels embarrassment warm his skin. Then Aiku gets it. 

“S-swallow?” Aiku chokes out.

“What? Why not?” Barou asks sharply, glaring up at Aiku in case he’s being laughed at. Aiku doesn’t look amused, though, just very aroused and kind of concerned. 

“That’s, that’d be, you’d have to,” Aiku falters, even as his cock visibly throbs. Ha. Sucker. He wants it. Barou rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not stupid. I know how to deepthroat.”

Aiku goes still, staring at him openly. How, he mouths, apparently too shocked to form words. 

“I have sex toys,” Barou snaps, losing his already small amount of patience. “Dildos are a lot easier to sanitize than you are.”

Oh, Aiku mouths slowly as his eyes widen further, thin rings of purple and green around blown pupils. 

Then Aiku proves his intelligence and finally says, “I’m gonna shut up and let you do that, then.”

“Finally,” Barou says grumpily, licking over the head of Aiku’s cock again, then flushing when he realizes he’d been looking forward to resuming the act. Maybe Aiku isn’t exaggerating when he swears he loves giving Barou head all the time. 

By now, Aiku’s cock tastes like nothing except Barou’s own mouth, and he has no more disgust to repress when he fits Aiku’s cock back into his mouth. With a small, satisfied sigh, he picks up where he left off. Aiku is even louder now, praising Barou’s efforts in between drawn-out moans. 

Aiku puts a hand on Barou’s head this time, sitting up straighter to properly watch him. He’s well-behaved, never trying to control Barou’s movements, just petting over his scalp. Barou’s eyes go half-lidded in pleasure. There’s a sort of peaceful mindlessness to this, a simple, repetitive task that results in such gratifying noises from Aiku. 

He also better understands why Aiku always wants to touch himself when he sucks Barou off. It’s undeniably erotic, and when he reaches for his own cock, he finds he’s still half-hard and terribly sensitive. Almost as much as when Barou had been (however unexpectedly) fully erect while washing Aiku’s genitals. He imagines touching himself while doing that, too, and shudders. His cock firms up a little more.

“Enjoying yourself?” Aiku asks, sounding breathless. 

Barou hums in response, and decides it’s time to work on deepthroating instead of ruminating on the unsettling experience of discovering a new kink. Another discovery: Aiku’s warm cock is much, much easier to ease past his gag reflex than his rather firm silicone dildo. 

“Oh—oh my god,” Aiku gasps, grabbing at Barou’s head briefly before letting go just as fast. “Oh my god, that feels so good, so so good,” he babbles as Barou lets him slide gradually past his gag reflex. 

It’s shocking how clearly he can feel Aiku’s cock throb in his throat. Aiku’s fingers fret through his hair, and he can see how his stomach muscles tense, his thighs clenching around Barou’s shoulders as the sensation intensifies. 

And then Aiku urgently says, “Oh shit, Shou-chan, I’m gonna cum soon, you look so fucking hot down there I can’t hold back I’m sorry, you’re so gorgeous, I’m trying, I…”

Barou stops listening and focuses on the more urgent task of pressing the full length of Aiku’s cock down his throat before he cums—it’s one thing to deliver cum directly to the hydrochloric acid of his stomach, and a whole other to endure even the smallest drop on his taste buds. 

By the time his nose presses into the fatty muscle of Aiku’s groin, Aiku sounds just about ready to blow. His whole body is locked up, even if his hand stays gently on Barou’s hear, and his cock is throbbing again and again and again. 

“Shouei,” Aiku says, sounding utterly wrecked in a way that raises the hairs on the back of Barou’s neck. Then Aiku continues, almost desperately, “I can’t hold back—I’m gonna cum,  I’m cumming down your throat,” Aiku groans, talking himself through his orgasm like he often does.

Barou tugs at his own cock more purposefully, eyes going watery from lack of air—he will endure until Aiku’s completely finished. He manages to work himself over by the time Aiku’s nearly finished, moaning around Aiku’s cock as he hears his own spend splatter onto the laminate floor. 

“Shouei, holy… did you just?” Aiku asks, sounding fucked-out and awed. 

Barou, still caught up in the throes of his orgasm, just moans again and wrings the last drops of cum from his cock just as he’s truly running out of air. He pulls off Aiku’s cock slowly, trying to avoid any drool or mess, but he’s too hazy to really do a good job of it. 

But before he can really process the mess, Aiku catches his chin right as his cock falls free of Barou’s lips. Then, gently, he cleans Barou’s face with one of his face wipes. Barou’s heart pounds strangely as Aiku tips his chin up so they’re looking at each other. 

It’s one of those rare times where Aiku looks completely sincere, his face showing nothing but such clear appreciation and affection that it’s hard to look at. 

Barou doesn’t often stop to think of it, but moments like this make it impossible not to realize that Aiku actually, genuinely cares for him. Romantically. After maybe a month together, Barou finds the sensation less jarring, and far more compelling. 

Aiku lets him go, tossing the used wipe into the trash can with an arcing throw that has Barou tensing until it lands. Then he says, “Damn it, I wanted it to last longer. You just felt so good.”

Barou works his way to his feet, looking at Aiku with skepticism. “You’re ridiculous. No one’s that good their first time.”

“Not even the great king?” Aiku asks with a sleazy grin as he flops backwards, obviously sated. Barou feels an odd sense of pride in it. 

“Thin ice, Aiku,” Barou admonishes him, but lays down next to Aiku anyway. Aiku rolls on his side to look at him. 

“Well, most guys’re are pretty good right off the bat when they’re into it, if I’m being honest,” Aiku says. “Maybe ‘cause they know how it feels? But you’re still different.”

“I don’t like empty compliments,” Barou reminds him. 

Aiku shakes his head. “No, no, I mean it. Knowing it was you… felt like I was gonna blow my load any time you touched me just a little. So maybe it was more about me being obsessed with you than you being some blowjob virtuoso. Is that more believable?”

Barou kisses Aiku briefly on the mouth. “Yes. It is. And I’ll do this for you again some time.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Really.”

 

“The red’s growing out.” Aiku loves to play with his hair when it’s down, and right now he’s petting the dyed hair near Barou’s hairline.

“You’re supposed to be helping me stretch,” Barou drones. He’s bent in half, fingertips just past his heels, with Aiku draped over his back. In the background, acoustic guitar music accompanies a slow pan over Tokyo.

“I’m multitasking. Can I dye your hair again?” 

Barou grimaces as he pushes further forwards, the backs of thighs burning. “More red?”

“Red looks good on you.” Aiku adjusts a little, evening out his weight—he is actually helping with stretching. “Or was that just for Isagi?”

Barou jolts, cramps, and shoves Aiku off of him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Aiku holds both hands up like that’ll stop Barou from swinging on him. “You seemed pretty into him back then. Just saying.”

Barou massages the cramping muscle and glares at Aiku. “I’m gonna crush that twerp. That’s all you need to know.”

“Careful, I might get jealous,” Aiku says, despite not looking bothered in the slightest. “What do I gotta do to have you put in some green and purple? That’s a real sexy color scheme, now that I think about it.”

“That would look like shit,” Barou says pointedly, “on anyone.”

Aiku waves him off. “Maybe you just only dye your hair for strikers, not your boyfriend. I guess I could be a forward again— mmph.” 

Barou grabs Aiku’s face by his cheeks, pulling him close. “I don’t want you to be a fucking forward. I wouldn’t date another forward. I’m not dying my hair green and purple because it’s ugly as hell. Got it?” He lets Aiku go.

“Aw, I love it when you flirt with me, Sho-chan,” Aiku says, rubbing his jaw with a goofy little grin. 

Barou smacks a hand on his own face, groaning. “I’m not—forget it.”

“Is that why you never made a move on robber-chan? He’s a striker?” Aiku’s deliberately provoking him. He has that sharp-eyed look he gets when he’s decided to pry information from Barou at all costs, a mean streak he usually keeps buried deep. Barou likes it enough to indulge him. 

“He would have rejected me,” Barou says bluntly. The other thing he’s learned about Aiku’s mean streak is that it pales in comparison to his protective nature. Predictably:

Aiku’s jaw drops. “Shit, you don’t have to go into it—

“I’m only interested in him when he’s looking down on me,” Barou interrupts him. “I’d stop caring once I completely beat him.”

“Huh.”

Barou snorts. “You think I’m some emotionless gorilla, don’t you? That I couldn’t possibly have thought it through?”

Aiku laughs at that. “Shouei, as your boyfriend, I obviously don’t think that. I did kinda think you’d be more in denial about it, though.”

“People who lie to themselves are cowards,” Barou scoffs. “It’s beneath me. So is telling peasants about my fucking private life.”

“Ah, of course.”

“Isagi… I’m not the kind of person he stays interested in unless I’m beating his ass. We’d tear each other to pieces if we got together, and it’d probably be the same with any other striker. I like to pick fights,” Barou says solemnly. “So does he.”

Aiku looks too interested. “Ohh, catfight? Sounds hot.”

“I’ll kill you,” Barou grunts, shifting into his next set of stretches. “Besides, Isagi’s just, well. Kinda small.”

Aiku’s laugh is sudden and loud. “He is, isn’t he?” Then he simpers, an off-putting effort to look coquettish. “Unlike me, who’s even bigger and stronger than you.”

The fucked up part is that if Aiku dropped the stupid expression, that line would work on him. 

Barou shakes his head at himself, but says, “Quit making that ugly face and I’ll let you fix up the red.”

“Now that I think about it, little Robber-chan definitely couldn’t fuck you like I do,” Aiku adds sagely. “His little twig legs would probably give out.” Barou does smack him upside the head for that one. It barely even makes Aiku blink, the man’s a fucking tank. Barou’s gonna ride him hard tonight.

He says, “I’m breaking up with you and going to a barber.”

So, of course, it’s only a matter of days before Aiku turns up with Aryu, Sendou, and hair dye. Barou lets it happen. If the idiots want to waste their whole evening fussing over him, so be it.

At least Aiku shuts up about doing his hair for the time being. He doesn’t shut up about other things, namely:

“Hey, Shou-chan, coach gave us the day off. Wanna go on a date? I found a new Szechuan place I’ve been wanting to try.”

“No. I already have plans to deep clean my room.”

Or:

“Picture this. You, me, in a bowling alley. I don’t say anything. You bowl. I look at your ass. It’s a date. Romantic, no?”

“Not romantic. Not a date.” 

And also:

“Shoooouei, I was thinking since we have Sunday free, we could—”

“I miss when you said you hated dating,” Barou sighs. Not that he minds Aiku asking, he finds the persistence flattering and Aiku seems to think it’s some kind of fun game. 

Barou is currently folding his laundry and Aiku is laying on the floor, texting his friends like a schoolgirl. Aiku rolls over to kick lightly at Barou’s shin. 

“I wasn’t even gonna ask you out this time,” Aiku admonishes. 

Barou frowns at him. “Why not?”

Aiku’s boyish grin returns. “My little sister’s got summer break! I figured we could go hang with her, I haven’t seen her since joining Blue Lock. She wants to go shopping in Harajuku.”

When they have a longer break, Barou wants to go back to Akita and visit his baby sisters. They’ve probably gotten so much taller since he saw them last. 

“Alright,” Barou says. 

Aiku surges off the floor, dropping both hands on Barou’s shoulders as he grins down at him. “It’s a date!” Aiku cheers. 

It’s not a date, but even Barou won’t bother fighting every battle and Aiku looks so happy about it.

Notes:

in all honesty, this chapter is more me enjoying aibr than me trying hard to make a gripping plot D: there is more tension later... just enjoy the porn for now. speaking of WHEW idk why but writing barou washing aiku's junk had me blushing like a virgin????

barou's probably full of testosterone and so horny, so i have bequeathed upon him a sex-drive that outpaces even aiku's. that, and at least in this fic i imagine he's demanding and impatient about what he wants, and kind of inconsiderate (this is so hot to me ok), meaning that he wants his dick sucked several times again and by god aiku's gonna make it happen

btw i do actually really like isbr please don't think i'm hating on the ship at all, i just think it's fun for barou to have past crushes he can be teased about and like. he's sooo obsessed with isagi it's lowhanging fruit

Chapter 7: aiku and his slutty little outfits, whew

Notes:

i sat down to reply to everyone's wonderful comments and was swiftly reminded that comments are rate limited now 💔 but please know i am so grateful for each and every comment! and for kudos, and the simple fact that you're here reading this <3 i love this ship & i love sharing it with people!!! xoxo donut (<- i feel aiku would sign off like this)

“I still feel like you should cover up more,” Barou says skeptically. 

Aiku is wearing a white v-neck that plunges halfway down his ribcage and is sheer enough Barou can see the outlines of his nipples. Technically speaking, he’s also got a loose, unbuttoned short sleeve shirt over it, but unless he buttons it up it accomplishes nothing. Low slung, distressed jeans and white shoes with neon green details complete what Aiku apparently thinks is an appropriate outfit. 

It does make Barou want to tear it off him, though. 

“Really?” Aiku frowns, grabbing his own tits. “And here I thought I was covering up too much. You look cute, though.”

Barou rolls his eyes, but tolerates Aiku shoving his hand into the back pocket of his jeans. He’s wearing normal clothes—loose black jeans, a red shirt, and his black-and-red bomber jacket. 

“You’ve got a fucked-up idea of cute,” Barou just says. 

Aiku pulls out a pair of blue-tinted aviators, snaps them open, puts them on, and grins at Barou. “You’ve got no idea, baby.”

Ugh. Time for a topic change. “Where’s your sister?”

They’re loitering outside Harajuku Station, waiting for the sister in question. Barou is beginning to wonder if she doesn’t exist and this actually was an elaborate ploy to get him out on a date, in which case he also is beginning to wonder how best to enact homicide. 

“She should be here soon. Here, let’s take a picture so she can find us.”

Aiku’s stolen a selfie before Barou can even articulate why that doesn’t make sense. He finally sputters, “Shouldn’t she know what her brother looks like?”

“Hm? But I change up my look so often,” Aiku says, his sarcasm fading as he suddenly becomes interested in something in the distance. “Oh, look! There she is!”

Aiku grabs Barou’s hand and tows him through the crowd until they finally meet up with the promised sister. According to Aiku, she’s sixteen, plays volleyball, and has three girlfriends. Like brother like sister, apparently. 

She looks nothing like Aiku, but the resemblance is still there. She has pin straight, pale green hair reaching her waist, big purple eyes, and a mystifying number of accessories. 

“Olive-chan!” Aiku calls out, finally dropping Barou’s hand to jog over to her, arms outstretched for a hug. She puts up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. It looks like she’s taking a picture of him, and Barou catches up by the time she says, 

“Hang on, I need to send this to my friends,” she says, long nails tapping against her phone screen. Barou pictures a future where his baby sisters grow up and fail to come running to tackle him, and frowns. 

“So cold,” Aiku says mournfully, turning to Barou. “Look at how my own flesh and blood treats me.”

Olive rolls her eyes, but tucks her phone into her… martini-shaped? ita bag and sidles over to Aiku to give him a half-hearted side hug. From under Aiku’s arm, she peers at Barou. 

“So, that’s your boyfriend?” 

Barou bows slightly. “Barou Shouei. Nice to meet you.”

“He looks scary,” Olive says, with the tone of a scolding parent. Aiku chuckles, then reaches out with his free hand to squish Barou’s cheeks together. 

“Really? I think he’s adorable.”

Because Barou is such an understanding person, he lets Aiku finish his sentence before slapping his hand away. 

Olive ducks away from Aiku to introduce herself properly. “Aiku Olive, thanks for coming out to visit. And yes, our parents did name us like that.”

Aiku says, “You’ll never guess what they named our older sister.”

“Probably something else impossible to pronounce,” Barou mutters. 

Olive gives him a cheesy smile, aiming a finger gun at him. “You got it!” She turns to Aiku. “So, I wanna go to Takeshita Street first, there’s a million cute shops and I need some new shoes. You want to treat your little sister, right?”

Aiku laughs. “Sure, sure. Not too much though, I’m pretty broke.”

Olive, who had already set off, tosses her curtain of hair over her shoulder and glares at Aiku. “Aren’t you some big-shot jock? What’s even the point?”

“How are you that broke?” Barou asks, staring at Aiku. They’ll all on JFA salary now, and Aiku had been on the original U-20 team before that. Not to mention Snuffy, Mr. ‘The Team is a Company,’ actually paid the Ubers in the NEL. 

“Haha, who knows?” Aiku says, grabbing Olive’s hand and heading even more quickly towards Takeshita Street. 

Barou had kind of thought Aiku was exaggerating about being terrible with money, but maybe he really is that hopeless. He shrugs to himself, following after. Money problems can be solved with money, which he has.

Aiku and Olive seem plenty able to entertain each other, harmlessly sniping at each other nonstop. Barou is content to listen; in between the affectionate bickering, they’re also catching up. Olive wants to know if Aiku’s talked to their sister recently (he has), how her wife is doing (good), and general gossip about what their parents are up to in Stockholm. Aiku asks about her boarding school, how her volleyball team is doing (mediocre), if she’s dating anyone (she’s rejected at least ten people this year already, and dumped the three girlfriends), and if she still likes a variety of shows, topics, or other things. 

It’s clear Aiku pays attention to her life. It seems like their parents and older sister are living in Sweden currently, so they’re especially close as the two left in Japan. Aiku even forks over enough money for the shoes she wants—a pair of platform boots that look, to Barou, identical to what she’s wearing now. 

Aiku buys them all drinks, and Olive promptly ditches them to check out another shop, less interested in Aiku’s hovering once he’s sworn off buying her anything more. Barou and Aiku are left to sit on a convenient concrete ledge and loiter, and Aiku tries to slowly sneak his hand onto Barou’s thigh without him noticing. Barou does notice, and doesn’t stop him. 

Olive reappears sooner than expected, expression sweet as she approaches Aiku. 

“Hi, Oli-niichan,” she says, “so, just one more—“

“Nope,” Aiku says, then slurps loudly from his drink. She pouts. Aiku sets his sunglasses further down his nose to look at her. “Where’s your allowance?”

Olive smiles brightly. “I left it at home. I only brought my phone and transit pass, so I can’t buy it for myself.”

“Too bad,” Aiku says with a stunning lack of sympathy. Barou scoffs, and Olive’s eyes cut to his with badly-hidden irritation. 

Barou raises an eyebrow at her. “What do you want to get?”

“Some really cute hairclips,” Olive says, with just a trace of impatience. It still reminds him of his sisters, though their impatience is usually more about how long it’s taking Barou to cook something, or why won’t he sit down already so they can pull on his hair. 

Barou gets to his feet, brushing non-existent dust off his pants. “Show me.”

“Barou-chan?” Aiku asks. Barou gives him a disdainful look. 

“Stay here, indigent.”

Wow, Aiku mouths at him, which Barou ignores in favor of following Olive into the store. She’s warming up quickly, talking about various items in the store. Barou half-pays attention, unbothered with various other accessories that join her shopping basket. The total at the register is ¥4,495. 

“If it’s too much,” Olive starts, but Barou waves her off. 

“I’m also some big-shot jock,” he tells her, handing the vendor his card. “And I’m not an irresponsible loser like your brother.”

She giggles once, covers her mouth, then thanks him politely. Barou is pleased with himself as they head back to Aiku. 

“Wow,” Aiku says out loud this time. 

Barou hands the bag to him. “You can carry these.” 

Aiku gives him a measured look, but says, “Sure can. Where to next?”

Olive skips ahead, and Aiku walks close enough that their shoulders brush. Barou is certain that Aiku wants to hold hands, but hasn’t yet figured out a way to convince Barou to allow it. 

They wait outside the next store (some kind of indie fashion thing, lots of black and purple), and Aiku says, “You know you don’t have to buy her stuff, right?”

“I know that,” Barou tells him irritably, crossing his arms. “I don’t have to do shit, but I want to. So I did.”

Aiku hums, not pressing the issue. Barou crosses his arms and says, “What’s your problem?”

Aiku raises an eyebrow at him. “No problems, Shou-chan. Olive just loves making people buy her things, and she usually gets away with it. I just don’t want you to think I brought you out here to bankroll my needy sister.”

How stupid. Barou steps up to get in Aiku’s face, saying, “I don’t, idiot. I think you brought me out here on some bullcrap faux date since I won’t waste my time on you otherwise.”

Aiku’s lips twitch in a smile. Barou considers kissing him. Aiku says mildly, “I just wanted you to meet some of my family, since you’re so important to me and all.” Then he purrs, “When I’ve got you out on a real date, you’ll know it.”

Barou swallows hard, momentarily stunned by how arousing Aiku sounds when he uses that low, promising tone. He keeps looking at Aiku’s mouth, warring with himself over how to act, what to do. 

Aiku says, “Oh my gosh, you’re thinking about kissing me, aren’t you?”

Barou blinks himself back to the present and scowls. “Not anymore.”

“Mhm.” Looking deeply pleased, Aiku takes hold of Barou’s chin, turns his head to the side, and kisses the corner of Barou’s mouth. “Too bad,” Aiku says as he draws back, “I’m still happy about it.”

Barou looks away. “You should be.”

He’s saved from further conversation by Olivia’s reappearance. “Barou-chan!” She calls, slipping through the crowd to stand in front of them. “Can I call you that?”

“Sure,” Barou says, somewhat surprised. Aiku rounds on him, scandalized. 

“You’re just gonna let anyone call you that?”

Barou rolls his eyes. “She’s your sister, not anyone. And I let you call me that, don’t I?”

Aiku pouts. 

“Ungrateful wretch,” Barou tells him, patting him hard on the back. “Olive-chan, did you need something?”

She smiles sweetly. “I saw some more things I liked, so…”

“Let’s go,” Barou says. 

This time Olive has a crochet cardigan picked out, and some custom candies. At the register, Barou sees some of the characters his sisters like—or at least, what they liked last time he saw them. 

“Hey, uh,” Barou starts gruffly, as they leave the store, then falters. Olivia pauses, tucking long, pale green hair behind her ear. 

“Yeah? Thanks for all the stuff, also. You’re really nice.”

Barou huffs at that. “Not really.”

Olive gives him a look. “Sorry I called you scary-looking.”

Barou pulls a face and hands her the bag. “Hah? I wanna look scary.”

Olive laughs behind her fingers, then says, “You wanted to ask me something, right?”

Right. Barou clears his throat, crosses his arms. “I have two little sisters. They’re kids, so you’re older than them, but I don’t know what the hell girls like. Probably some stuff around here. If you see anything they might want…”

“Oh, gift recommendations! Can do. What stuff do they like?”

That’s easier. Barou rattles off his mental checklist, and to her credit, Olive pays close attention. 

The rest of the afternoon goes similarly, except Olive goes from acting like a polished young woman to a boisterous teen the more comfortable she gets with Barou. Aiku’s arms are full of shopping bags, but he seems happy as a clam to meet up with them outside of each store and receive the rundown and yet another thing to carry.

Barou gets a few gifts for each sister, and even something for his mom. Olive has given him a full rundown on class dynamics of her highschool grade. Aiku makes them stop for an earlier dinner at some point, which is a nice break from socializing and lets Barou sit back to enjoy his food—Aiku has a knack for finding the best places—while the Aiku siblings talk each other’s ears off. 

Olive leaves them before it starts getting dark, packed into a cab along with her spoils and heading to the room she’d booked with her friends for their Tokyo outing. 

“Bye Nii-chan!” Olive waves at Aiku. 

“Be careful! Text me when you get there!” Aiku calls back. 

To Barou, Olive says, “Thanks for everything, Barou-niichan! Let’s hang out again!” 

Barou-niichan? The cab pulls away, leaving Barou speechless. 

“Okay, I actually am kinda jealous now,” Aiku laughs. “She really likes you.”

Barou nods. “She’s a good kid. I’d be happy to see her again.”

“Great,” Aiku says, all smiles as he slings an arm around Barou’s shoulder. “So, my folks still have a place nearby in Nakano we could head to. No one’s home since they’re overseas right now.”

Barou wants to go home and salvage what remains of the day for his workout routine. “Why?”

Aiku leans in, breathing against his neck as he talks. “We’d be completely alone, Shou-chan. No roommates, no teammates, and a nice, big bed. Catch my drift?” 

Barou stiffens, shivers running down the back of his neck, his spine. He sets his jaw and says, “Let’s go now.”

The arm around his shoulders slips down his back to settle around his hips. Aiku’s thumb hooks in the waistband of his jeans. “I’ll call a cab,” Aiku tells him, steering him to the side of the street. 

Barou feels oddly exposed, like everyone passing is staring at them (it’s Harajuku; no one’s interested in two relatively plain dressers), and like everyone knows what dirty things he’s thinking about. He has had to tolerate Aiku’s revealing outfit this whole time, and is fairly worked up from a long day of seeing Aiku’s nipples through his shirt and enduring tolerably subtle attempts to grab his ass.

Somehow, over the course of the last several weeks, Aiku’s persistent attempts to touch him or provoke him have gone from being annoying to, in Barou’s mind, a tithe of sorts where he expects and deserves Aiku’s daily admiration and desire.

A cab rolls up, and they climb in. Aiku gives the driver the address, and they pull away from the curb. The driver turns on a rather loud game show. 

Two large men crammed into the back of a cab is nearly comical, and Aiku reliably makes it worse by slouching and spreading his legs, taking up so much space that their knees press together. Barou’s bags are stuffed between his ankles, his jacket resting on his lap. 

Barou looks at Aiku sidelong and says, “Well?

”It’s a little cramped, but the drive won’t be too long,” Aiku says, patting Barou’s thigh. He goes to move his hand away, and Barou grabs it just as fast, pinning it to his quads. Aiku makes a soft noise of surprise, suddenly fully focused on Barou—as he should be. 

Barou leans towards him, saying under his breath, “You’ve been trying to feel me up all day. You giving up now?”

Aiku’s lips part. Barou spreads his legs just a little more, and that’s all it takes. Aiku’s hand slides up his thigh in towards the sensitive area near his groin, entirely disguised by Barou’s jacket. Strategic placement. Barou congratulates himself. 

It’s not like they never engage in risky locations. They’ve made good use of empty locker rooms, supply closets, and even the screening room when they have it booked out. Aiku likes the risk of getting caught, and Barou prioritizes satisfying his sex drive over the sensibilities of whatever idiot accidentally finds them. So far, so good, but a taxi is new. 

“Can you keep quiet?” Aiku murmurs. 

Barou sneers at him. “You think you’re that good?”

“Practice makes perfect,” Aiku says with a dangerous grin. His hand ghosts over Barou’s groin. “And this isn’t my first backseat handy.”

Disgusted, Barou tries to jerk away and is foiled both by the confines of the car and Aiku’s suddenly-firm grip on his inner thigh—he nearly fucking moans from the abrupt intensity of it. Barou can’t afford to shout his outrage, so his mouth opens and closes and fury boils in his throat. His cock throbs in his pants, betraying him. Aiku gives him an easy smile, squeezes his thigh. 

“You can always stop me,” Aiku says, voice pitched low. “Just smack my hand away, whatever.”

“You—” Barou hisses, but Aiku is already turning away, settling back in his seat and propping his other arm up on the arm rest, chin on his fist, looking out the window as though admiring the scenery. 

Aiku’s other hand, though, begins to firmly massage Barou’s sensitive inner thigh. Realizing Aiku won’t stop unless he’s told, and that Barou isn’t at all inclined to stop him, he huffs in annoyance and settles back as well, head tipped back against the headrest, eyes narrowed as he stares at the cab’s roof. 

He crosses his arms, hands making fists, yet can’t keep from adjusting slightly, scooting inches closer to Aiku and letting his knees fall apart. Just to be comfortable. Not spreading his legs like he’s desperate. Not that. Not to give Aiku more reach, which Aiku immediately takes advantage of. The tips of his fingers are now brushing against the bulge Barou’s erection is making in his pants. 

Barou nearly bites through his tongue when Aiku fully grabs his cock. Aiku, who is still staring out the window as if completely unaffected. Barou’s teeth grind audibly as he tries not to make a noise. His cock is throbbing in time with his pulse, twitching against Aiku’s hand with humiliating eagerness. 

Thankfully, Aiku doesn’t seem intent on making him finish—Barou wouldn’t allow it to go that far. He does, however, stroke Barou through the rest of the ride, enough that Barou is grateful for his black pants and the fact that a precome stain won’t be visible. He can feel the nauseating wetness inside of his briefs already. 

“You can pull over here, thank you!” Aiku says brightly, gathering up Barou’s few gift bags and getting out of the car first. 

Rattled, Barou follows suit, tying his jacket around his waist to hide his extremely obvious boner. 

Aiku generously tips the cab driver, and Barou fantasizes about pushing him over the head of the car and fucking him. Instead, he tucks his thumbs in his pockets and tensely follows Aiku into a tidy apartment building across the street. 

“They moved to a smaller place once they realized they’d be gone most of the year,” Aiku explains as they enter a rickety little elevator. 

“You’re sure no one will be there?” Barou says, staring at the little yellow numbers above the door. 

“Hundred percent.” Aiku sounds far too self-satisfied, but the door rattles open before Barou can call him on it. The hallway is nicer than the elevator, clean and well-lit. At the far end is a window that shows the vast sprawl of buildings and the setting sun. “This is the one,” Aiku says, sorting through keys before opening the door. 

Barou follows him inside, and takes off his shoes by the door while Aiku locks it behind them. With magnificent self-control, he waits until Aiku has house slippers on before pushing him up against the door so hard that Aiku’s breath gusts out. 

“Shou—” is all Aiku manages to say before Barou pins him fully to the door and pushes his still-hard cock right against Aiku’s front. He shivers from the sheer satisfaction, letting out a groan that carries all the volume he’d held back in the car. 

“Oh, I got you all worked up, didn’t I?” Aiku says. Aiku’s arms wrap around his waist, holding him loosely while Barou makes another drawn-out, luxurious thrust against him. Barou pulls back to look Aiku in the face. 

“I’m gonna fuck you up,” he growls. He can see Aiku’s pupils dilate as he stares back at him with heavy-lidded eyes. 

“It’s so hot when you’re like this,” Aiku drawls, tucking both hands under Barou’s shirt. “What are you gonna do to me, Shou-chan?”

Barou ruts against him again and shudders. The visceral need to shove his dick in something has him near seeing red. “Fuck you,” Barou rasps. 

Aiku bats his eyelashes. “It was just a question, Shou-chan.”

“No, I’m gonna—I want to fuck you,” Barou says, slamming his forearm on the door next to Aiku’s head. Aiku’s eyes shoot open, wide and utterly shocked in a way Barou has never seen him be before. 

“O-okay,” Aiku says, still wide-eyed. His face looks pink. Barou wants to fuck him even more now, but Aiku says, “I’m not, I don’t, uh, today might be difficult.”

Barou shuts his eyes, trying to think past the burning need in his pants. “You don’t have to,” he says. “I just—”

“No, no,” Aiku falters, chuckling awkwardly. “Fuck, Shouei, of course I want to, I mean, fuck, seeing how bad you want me? Of course I’m down.”

Barou’s breath shudders out of him. “So what's the damn problem?"

“It’s just that I don’t have any prep stuff at my parent’s house right now, and I figure you’d rather keep it clean.” Aiku’s arms tighten around his waist. The words are like a cold shower, reality hitting hard enough to curb the blinding lust. 

“Oh,” Barou says gravely. Had he really been so aroused as to forget the revolting realities of anal sex?

“That, and I’m a top.” Aiku winks, “Well, for now, which means...”

The need surges again just as quickly. Barou says heavily, “I’d be your first.”

“You could pop my cherry, Shou-chan. Isn’t that fun?” 

Barou shuts his eyes and rests his forehead on the door next to Aiku’s with a curse. His cock throbs in his pants. 

“Fun?” Barou echoes, teeth bared. “I want to—” his words cut out. He wants too much to even begin to articulate it, scenarios flashing through his mind. He wants to—to destroy Aiku, destroy him for anyone else. Finish inside him and mark him as forever Barou’s. Spread him open and watch him struggle to take Barou’s cock, see how far he’ll go just to please him. Even the thought of Aiku as any kind of virgin makes his head spin.

“Fuck me,” Aiku finishes for him. “Well, this time, you could…” he trails off, trying to sound seductive. 

Barou, who has already been seduced, just feels impatient. “Aiku, what.”

Aiku’s mouth curves into his familiar smile. “Fuck my mouth instead.”

“I do that all the time.” Not that he doesn’t want to now, but Aiku looks too pleased with himself to be offering something that has become a daily occurrence. 

“No, I blow you all the time,” Aiku says, relaxing back against the door. “I’m saying you should fuck my face. Really give it to me. That’s what you want, right? To shove your cock in some tight little hole?”

To illustrate, Aiku runs his pointer finger over his own bottom lip, parts his lips, strokes over his own tongue. Barou damn near blacks out. 

“Yeah,” Barou manages to rasp, “that’s right.” 

“Mhm. I get that way too,” Aiku says with evident satisfaction. “Use me, Shou-chan. I wanna feel how bad you want it.”

That can be arranged. Barou says shortly, “On your knees.”

Aiku eases himself downwards, obediently settling on his knees then reaching for Barou’s fly. Barou swats his hand away. 

“We go at my pace,” Barou tells him, even though he still immediately goes to free his cock and balls. He’s still near fully hard and he wants to tug Aiku’s mouth open and shove the entire length of his cock down his throat, but like always, he wants too much too fast. In this regard, at least, he’s unwilling to take it at Aiku’s expense. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Barou says tersely. 

Aiku’s contrived, sultry expression turns immediately to something more sincere. He puts a hand on Barou’s thigh, rubbing his thumb over his hip bone affectionately. 

“I know what I can handle,” Aiku says plainly. “I’m up for this. Go as hard as you want, okay? Serious.”

Barou frowns at him. “I’ll kill you if you throw up.”

Aiku nods solemnly, unable to entirely hide his amusement. “I’ll stop you before it goes that far. Come on, Shou-chan, didn’t you wanna fuck me?”

“Shut up,” Barou growls and shoves two fingers into Aiku’s mouth, which shuts him up more effectively than Barou’s words ever have. It also sends that rare shade of pink across his cheeks, but Aiku still lets his jaw fall open.

Barou feels… mean. The knowledge that Aiku wants him mean just eggs him on, and he presses down harder with the tips of both fingers, forcing Aiku’s mouth open even farther. Aiku makes a soft noise of surprise. His mouth is warm and wet, familiar and inviting. 

For once, Barou isn’t thinking of the saliva now coating his fingers; his whole being is focused on guiding his cock into Aiku’s welcoming throat. With Aiku’s jaw held open like this, Barou can push all the way down with one thrust. He can’t control the noise he makes when he bottoms out, Aiku’s throat constricting around the length of his cock.  

Aiku’s gag reflex control is phenomenal, really. It’ll be put to the test today. 

“I’m gonna go hard,” Barou says shortly, looking down at Aiku, who hums in return. He knows to tap out if needed, something Barou strictly insists upon due to his sensibilities (he might actually black out if Aiku vomits on his dick). 

Satisfied Aiku has a handle on things, Barou reaches up to grab the top of the doorframe, pulls out just a little, then shoves his cock all the back in. It just feels so good, even better after waiting so long, and Barou’s rational mind is drowned out by static. He does it again, and somehow his cock feels even harder now, even better, all the muscles in his core taut with need—he has less control on the next thrust, fucking against Aiku’s face so hard his skull cracks against the wooden door. 

Aiku’s hand on his hip gives a little squeeze—he’s doing fine. Then it sets in, Barou’s predator drive realizing he no longer has to hold back. He does it again, the pleasure so intense it pulls a filthy groan from deep in his chest. 

“That’s good,” he tells Aiku, gasping for breath as he keeps rutting forwards. Aiku’s head thuds against the wall in concert with Barou’s moans, but Aiku’s permission aside, Barou still can’t have him getting concussed. On the next thrust, he keeps his hips pushed forward and pins Aiku’s head to the door with core strength alone. Aiku chokes around his cock, spit sliding warm and wet down Barou’s balls.

Barou groans again, sounding almost wounded, and grinds against Aiku’s face mercilessly. Aiku can’t help but gag, and each pulsing squeeze around Barou’s cock has him seeing stars. It’s fully messy now, but he feels too good to care. 

Before long, grinding isn’t enough. Barou pulls out, Aiku desperately sucks in air, and Barou moves one hand from the door frame to the back of Aiku’s skull, fingers spread through his dark curls, flexed to hold him tight. 

He feels like he’s going to die if he goes one more second without fucking something, so he jerks Aiku’s head down the length of his cock, rough like he’s never been before. Aiku makes a surprised gurgle, but takes it in stride like he does everything else. Barou feels obsessed. 

“That’s it,” Barou pants, fully fucking down Aiku’s throat, hips and hand working together to make sure each thrust goes as keep as possible. “So—so good, hah, feels so good,” Barou growls, eyes narrowed against the overwhelm of pleasure. Every breath out is a helpless moan, every breath in is a sharp gasp. He tries to slow his breathing, moderate, make it last, but he can’t. Doesn’t even truly want to. 

His head drops forward as he gives in, forehead thunking against the cool wood of the door, body curling over Aiku as his thrusts become more desperate. The sounds coming from Aiku’s throat are obscene, wet and rhythmic and gurgling. Erotic. Barou’s right on the fucking edge whether he likes it or not.

“Aiku,” he pants, “I’m gonna”—Barou stutters as his muscles lock up in anticipation “—fuck, gonna come right down your throat. Take it. Take it.”

He buries himself as deep as he can, balls throbbing in time with his pulse, as he tips over the edge. It feels so good, Aiku feels so tight as he swallows—he’s so good, so good to Barou—and Barou’s cock twitches and jerks as he sprays cum down Aiku’s throat.

Then Barou’s eyes shoot open at a new sensation; Aiku has grabbed behind his balls, pulling him in and keeping him buried deep even as Aiku starts to gag. He can’t single out what Aiku’s doing, everything feels too hot and liquid and good but he knows Aiku is cupping his balls, massaging his taint, and milking him for all he’s worth. Barou does kind of black out after that. He curses, moans, bucks against Aiku’s face and cums in a way he hasn’t really ever felt before—finishing with the knowledge he roughly took everything he wanted. 

By the time he comes to his senses, Aiku has pulled halfway off his cock, enough to let him breathe properly through his nose. His face is red, eyes streaming, mouth wet with drool that covers his chin and slides down his neck. The front of his shirt has damp patches from where it dripped. 

Barou’s knee-jerk repulsion takes a backseat to appreciation for Aiku’s durability. He looks glassy-eyed but happy, lips curling up into a smile the second Barou’s cock slides from his mouth. Barou looks down further, then sees Aiku’s cock hanging limp from his fly, a puddle of cum on the floor below him.

“You got yourself off,” Barou remarks, tamping down his unfair irritation. He gets too possessive during sex especially, irritated when Aiku gets pleasure from anyone but him—even if the other person is Aiku himself. Shaking the thought free, Barou steps back, discovers how shaky his legs are, then steadies himself on the entryway’s wall. He lets out a shuddering breath, then says, “Alright, I’m gonna grab something to clean you up.”

Aiku slumps to the floor, relaxed with his back to the door. His eyelids seem heavy as he looks up at Barou from under his lashes. “Sorry,” he murmurs. 

Something’s off, but Barou, who just came his brains out, has no idea what. He turns to go find a towel, and he’ll be back quick to check on Aiku... He ends up standing still, feet glued to the floor with the sudden certainty that he shouldn’t leave Aiku at all.

Aiku is his boyfriend, his partner. Barou should take proper care of him. He wants to. He may never become a sentimental person, but he’s not such a coward that he’ll lie to himself about how much he cares.

Cursing under his breath, he pulls his shirt over his head and turns around. Aiku still looks fine, but Barou still shakily crouches in front of him, using his poor shirt (he may burn it later) to wipe at his face. 

“What’re you sorry for, idiot,” Barou says softly. Aiku sighs, leans into his touch. 

“It—” Aiku coughs, clears his throat, and continues with a horrific rasp, “It was just so hot. Couldn’t help but jack off, Shou-chan.”

Barou sighs shortly. Of course it was that, of course he failed to hide his irritation from Aiku. He holds Aiku’s chin through his defiled shirt, keeping his face tipped up. 

“It’s fine. I like to finish you off myself, but it’s…” he bites his lip, thinking. “It’s good you liked it that much. I’m not mad. I’m just a selfish jerk,” he admits. 

Aiku’s smile looks more solid. “Greedy king,” he says, voice rattling in his throat. Barou huffs out a brief laugh. 

“Gotta get you something for your throat, huh? After we shower. Your parents have a shower, right?” He can’t help the sudden panic from entering his voice, which makes Aiku chuckle roughly. 

“No, Shou-chan. We’ll have to go wash in the gutter outside.”

“Jackass,” Barou tells Aiku, pinching his cheek. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Showering to Barou’s satisfaction takes nearly forty-five minutes, and not just because they have to move carefully when both of them are still pretty weak at the knees. Barou washes Aiku carefully, letting his hands express all the care he doesn’t know how to verbalize. Soft kisses, slow caresses, and slightly too-fragrant soap makes it so easy to lose track of time. 

They get out when the water begins to run cold. Afterwards, they find a throat lozenge for Aiku, and Barou does their laundry. 

While they wait for the washer, they dress in Aiku’s spare clothes and Barou tries not to feel like someone’s girlfriend caught up in how much this huge, soft hoodie smells like her boyfriend. 

Aiku finally tries to hold his hand as they head down the street to get dinner from the little konbini at the corner, and Barou lets him. 

Barou has never spent this much time alone with Aiku outside of Blue Lock—or even just in general. It’s surprisingly easy. He might’ve worried Aiku’s constant attention could become smothering, despite how much Barou likes to be the center of attention. But Aiku is surprisingly willing to entertain himself, becoming easily distracted by his parents’ literature magazines, old manga series that he used to like and are still on the shelves, or whatever else. It’s simple in a devastating way, when Barou realizes just how much he’s come to enjoy Aiku’s company. 

They end up spending the night there. The guest room bed is nice, spacious enough to fit both of them. For once, they aren’t all over each other, and even Barou’s considerable sex drive is satiated. Aiku cuddles up against his side, but his hands stay relatively chaste—relatively, since Barou’s chest is never completely safe from him. 

Aiku says, “So, do you still wanna fuck me?” Lozenge or no, his voice still sounds like he gargled with coarse sand. Barou tries not to be too smug about it. With a grumble, Barou lifts his head to look at Aiku. He looks sleepy as well, but somehow still mischievous. 

“Yeah,” Barou says. “Sometime. I’m not in a rush.”

“I’m offended. You should say something like, ‘Oh, Oli-chwan, I can’t live another day without fucking your very sexy and muscular ass.’”

Barou snorts. “Then stay offended, loser. I’ll die before I say that crap.”

“How cruel!” Aiku nuzzles against his neck, and affection swells warm in Barou’s chest. 

“I’m not in a rush ‘cause I know how good fucking your throat feels,” Barou adds. “It’ll tide me over.” Who ever said he doesn’t compromise?

Aiku hums, pleased. “That’s right. You can also fuck my thighs, my tits, uh. What else... Armpits? Feet?”

“You have to know that’s turning me off,” Barou sighs. “Quit being a freak for five minutes, would you?”

Aiku ignores that. “But I’ll work on actually prepping for anal. I’ve never done on myself before, and I’m sure you’ll have high standards.”

Barou grunts in approval. “Correct.”

“I’ll have to get supplies for the dorms,” Aiku says, thinking aloud, and it triggers something in Barou’s memory, something Aiku had said when Barou was far too horny to pick up on it—  

“Aiku… you said you don’t have the supplies for it at your parent’s place right now. Do you normally?” Barou asks, scandalized and horrified to the extent he can manage while being sleepy and very comfortable. 

Aiku laughs sharply, winces, and then coughs. He finally says, “Don’t be mad, Shou-chan, it was before we got together. But I did keep a bunch of stuff up here, ‘cause it’s close enough to Shibuya I’d bring people back all the time. Not when my folks were home, obviously.”

Barou’s not mad, but he is jealous and irritated. He rolls on his side, grabbing Aiku’s face firmly, keeping them nose-to-nose. Aiku looks like he’s about to giggle. Barou feels a vein in his temple throb. 

“You’re nasty,” Barou tells him. “But no, I’m not mad. Because now you’re mine.” He can’t keep the aggression from his voice, but Aiku doesn’t seem to mind. Conversely, Aiku seems to relax, tension going from his body as he sinks into the pillows. 

“Ah, Shou-chan,” Aiku says hoarsely, “can you believe it’s true? Do you know how special you are? To keep me like this—to make me want you to keep me like this.”

Barou’s heart thuds treacherously loud. He raises his brows, looking at Aiku with a mix of approval and condescension. “I know how fuckin’ special I am,” he says bluntly. “Don’t go forgetting.”

Aiku’s mouth twitches, then he’s squirming out of Barou’s grasp to bury his face in a pillow. Even in the night-filled room, Barou can see the tips of his ears going red. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Aiku groans into the pillow. “I’m so fucked-up obsessed with you. Ugh. Fuck me.”

Despite himself, a half-smile flits across Barou’s face. Everything is as it should be, then. He leans down, breathing against the pink shell of Aiku’s ear. “I will, soon enough,” he whispers. 

“Shou-chaaaan,” Aiku complains. Barou kisses his cheekbone then relents, dropping heavily onto the mattress next to him. 

“Ah, don’t get all worked up. I’m no better off than you are,” Barou says begrudgingly. He has become fixated on Aiku in a way that nothing but soccer could hope to match. Aiku mumbles something he can’t hear, but wiggles back to his side, attaching himself like a limpet once again. “Now can we sleep?” Barou says. “It’s a full hour past my bedtime.”

Despite the large bed, they still wake up tangled together. Aiku’s parents’ place has packaged toothbrushes for guests. They get breakfast from the same konbini, and the elderly clerk recognizes Aiku. Aiku is respectful as always, compliments her, makes her laugh and wave them out of the store as they leave, and Barou once again allows his hand to be held. 

They walk back to Aiku's parent's place, and  the sun picks up violet highlights in Aiku’s ridiculous hair. Aiku's smile is wide, a predictable precursor to whatever inane comment he's about to make in an attempt to amuse Barou. He looks happy, like he's having fun, and Barou realizes—with Aiku’s calloused hand in his, with the sun on his back—that he’s having fun, too.

Notes:

i know barou isn't topping in the sense that he's penetrating aiku's tight little asshole, but he's topping in SPIRIT which is why he gets the top barou tag. that said i want to have him actually literally top aiku (i gotta break my streak of only writing top aiku and only drawing top barou i don't know WHY i'm like this), but i'll need to add it in at some point so we'll see if i get around to it

thank you so much for reading, and i hope you enjoyed!

Chapter 8: aiku has even more outfits in this one

Notes:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAROU I WORKED VERY HARD TO WRITE A SMUT SCENE I"VE BEEN PROCRASTINATING ON FOR MONTHS IN LIKE 1 DAY JUST SO I COULD POST YOUR BIRTHDAY CHAPTER ON YOUR BIRTHDAY

i tagged top barou right? right? oh good yes I did

It’s good they took the time together, Barou thinks, since the next few weeks are packed with prep for the World Cup. Between practice, his own training, and packing, they have little time together. Well, private time. 

Plane seats are hotly contested amongst the team. Barou dreams of sitting next to Sae and speaking not a single word for the entire flight, until he sees Shidou’s already scored a seat next to him. That means Sae and Shidou will be having sex on the plane and if Barou is anywhere near them when it happens, he will have to pull the emergency exit door and begin a very, very short base jumping career.

Actually, on that note—“Aiku, we’re not going to fuck on the plane.”

Aiku looks up from where he’s painstakingly, albeit still poorly, folding his clothes. “Not even a little under-blanket action?”

Barou gags slightly. “Absolutely not. If you want it so bad, you can go fuck a flight attendant and then go to an emergency room when I rip your dick off afterwards.”

“Aw, you have such a way with words,” Aiku grins. “Don’t worry Shou-chan, I know better than to bother someone while they’re working—unless they come onto me first, of course.”

“Aiku,” Barou growls. 

“Besides, I’m already in the mile-high club,” Aiku says, then catches Barou’s confused expression. “That means you’ve fucked on a plane. Also, for your information, it wasn’t a flight attendant; it was a German tourist, and he made fun of my accented German the whole time.”

Barou grunts out a laugh despite himself. “Serves you right.”

“Maybe so,” Aiku says easily. “Hey, at least the JFU sprung for individual hotel rooms this time. Figures those old misers listen to Sae now, even though I’ve been gunning for it for ages.”

“Damned teacher’s pet,” Barou grumbles. 

“I’m just happy we’re finally getting out of the Blue Lock dorms,” Aiku says, pausing to stretch, looking around the rooms they’ve spent months in. Barou, a good three months longer than Aiku. He won’t miss it here, either. 

Barou sighs shortly. “Let me fold your clothes, jackass. It’s gonna take forever if you keep doing it like that.”

“Nah, can’t have you doing all my chores,” Aiku says, which Barou would approve of if he didn’t have ulterior motives. After all, they’re flying out in a few days and it’s going to be a long time without any kind of intimacy. 

“Then I’ll do half,” Barou says shortly. “If we finish early, then we can use the bed before we start washing the sheets.”

Aiku’s grin widens dangerously. “Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty. You’re on.”

 

The plane flight goes about as well as it could. Barou put off picking seats for so long that he successfully managed to avoid Isagi’s attempts to sit by him (and why? he has so many other friends to bother), and ended up sitting next to Anri, which is even better than Sae would have been. 

Barou has a plan, and he sticks to it. A high-quality face mask, Quickle™ wipes in every piece of luggage as well as a pack in his pocket, hand sanitizer, very effective noise cancelling headphones, and sleeping medication. 

He only stays awake long enough to avoid completely crashing his circadian rhythm, and only wakes up for planned time increments to make the adjustment easier. When he is awake, he eats, reviews their prep material on the other World Cup teams, and does his best to ignore the rest of the team. 

Sae and Shidou do spend time suspiciously missing from their seats. Aiku’s next to Karasu, likely for co-captain reasons, but spends most of his time out of his seat—not suspiciously missing, just chatting with the rest of the team, swapping seats for periods of time, and so on. Barou does see at least one flight attendant flirt with him, but Aiku’s just like that. Friendly. Magnetic. Confident, but in the way that draws people to him, unlike Barou whose confidence keeps people at a distance. 

By the time they disembark the plane in Argentina, they all look a little haggard. Barou is comfortable in his team sweats, his hair kept in a low bun to protect it from the vagaries of the airport. He pauses in the restroom to apply sunscreen. His tan skin is dark enough to rarely burn, but that’s no reason to neglect skincare. 

Aiku also pauses in the restroom to proposition Barou (likely incidentally, and Barou rejects him with more reluctance than he should) and to, apparently, change outfits. They’re all supposedly wearing Japan’s U-20 gear, except now Aiku’s jacket has been unzipped to reveal a clingy black shirt with a far too low neckline. He’s got a few gold chains around his neck, and Raybans that have a blue-to-green gradient on the lenses. Insufferable.

“Oh god,” Barou says, appalled.

“Right? I’m so excited to get out of the northern hemisphere,” Aiku grins. “Like my outfit, Shou-chan?”

Barou stares at him. “What do you think?”

“I think you think it’s hot as fuck, and you can’t wait to get me alone to plunder my helpless body.”

“Funny. I was actually thinking I’m going to leave the bathroom and pretend I don’t know you until we get to the hotel,” Barou says. 

Aiku chuckles, swanning over to kiss Barou on the cheek. “I love when you joke around,” he says. “I missed you on the plane flight.”

No wonder he’s being so clingy now. Barou allows it only because he’d missed having Aiku nearby, too. “Whatever,” Barou says, but his hand drifts to Aiku’s hip. 

Aiku brightens. “Here, let me get a picture. Our first trip together!”

“We’re here to win the World Cup,” Barou points out drily, glaring at Aiku’s camera while the shutter clicks. “You know this isn’t a vacation, right?”

“Yes, yes, you’re gonna crush all the strikers under your very kingly heel,” Aiku says, and gets away with it via another kiss on the cheek. “And I can’t wait to watch you do it.”

“Ew, get a room,” Reo calls, emerging from the handicap stall. Nagi emerges shortly after him. 

“Speak for yourself!” Barou barks at them with disgust, and is out of the bathroom in mere seconds. He can hear Aiku’s laughter behind him. They can have their fun. Barou is here for one thing, and one thing only: he’s going to be the best striker in the tournament. He’s going to win the World Cup.

He’s somewhat surprised to see the smattering of reporters waiting outside the airport for them. Likely Anri had called them in, or perhaps Blue Lock TV really was as much of an international sensation as Ego said it was. He watches with a sort of bemused awe while Aiku saunters over and starts chatting them up, fielding questions on behalf of the team and radiating charm.

His time as team captain wasn’t just for show, it seems. He’s obviously media trained and takes the responsibility seriously. Barou has no desire for that kind of spotlight, and he has sympathy for Karasu’s pained face when Aiku waves him over for co-captain duties. Still, as Barou passes by and stoically ignores everyone who even dares to glance in his direction, he can hear Aiku talking up the team and handing off lowball questions to Karasu, keeping him included. 

Barou files onto the bus, quietly savoring the certainty that no matter how many people Aiku’s magnetism draws in, he chooses to belong to Barou, and Barou alone.

 

Japan’s U-20 team progresses through the group stages. Despite the endless annoyances of being stuck on a team full of freaks, Barou enjoys himself greatly. This is what he was born for, what he’s trained for, the perfect crucible for who he is and is becoming. The packed arenas, screaming fans, high expectations and high stakes. 

Part of him had worried that being in a relationship would somehow soften him, a hidden weakness that might crack under pressure. Barou already knows if such a think were to occur, he would cut Aiku loose—no matter how little he actually wants to. 

But it doesn’t happen. Maybe the opposite is true, for no matter how adoring Aiku is, Barou still understands that having his boyfriend on the pitch is another avenue for humiliation should he fail. He knows Aiku expects him to be the best, and he’d have a real problem if Aiku didn’t. And knowing Aiku is always at his back, watching his every move, makes him play that much sharper. 

Barou is in his element.

 

Barou is out of his element. Despite his best efforts, people have found out about his birthday. Even worse, it’s just after the group stage is over, removing Barou’s most effective reason behind telling them to fuck off.  

Aiku claims innocence unconvincingly when Isagi and Co. confront Barou with pudding defiled by a birthday candle. Upon further interrogation (during which Barou cornered Aiku out of sight, grabbed him by the balls, and told him he’d yank them off if he didn’t spill everything. Aiku had moaned a lot, gotten visibly hard, laughed at Barou, and then told him everything), Barou learned he’d made the mistake of mentioning his favorite brand of pudding at some point, and Aiku had taken it upon himself to bring several cases in his checked bags. It was thoughtful, even if it annoys Barou that Aiku had apparently rearranged the bags Barou had carefully packed. Whatever. 

The secret is out, and he does love this type of pudding and hasn’t had it in months, and can’t really bring himself to complain beyond the most surface-level grumbling. Pudding for breakfast is very stupid and Barou eats it anyway, carefully ignoring how happy all the idiots look. 

Thankfully, after breakfast it’s back to business as usual. Training, reviewing game tapes, and so on, until Aiku asks to meet in Barou’s hotel room for their late afternoon break. Barou braces himself for some kind of horrific surprise party. What he finds is equally horrific: Aiku in a maid outfit. 

“I’m feeling kinda dirty,” Aiku says with a wink. He’s posing, too, lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, kicking his feet. Barou stares, too shocked to form words. He’s also looking at Aiku’s bare ass under that tiny white skirt, and how the ridiculous dress top thing fully exposes his chest, pushing his pecs together to form a line of cleavage. 

“What the fuck,” Barou says. “A maid shouldn’t be dirty if they haven't even been working.”

Aiku breaks into peals of laughter, rolling over the mattress towards Barou, coming to a stop on his stomach again, and propping his chin up on his hands. “Aw, you don’t like it? You love cleaning stuff, so—”

“I don’t have a maid fetish,” Barou says with forceful disdain. “You look ridiculous in that.”

“Not even a little sexy?” Aiku says, not sounding put out in the slightest. 

Barou crosses his arms. “You’re hot in spite of that outfit, not because of it.”

Aiku makes a faux considering face as he sits up. “Yeah, I’ll take that as a compliment. So, skirt on or off for sex?”

”The hell do you think?” Barou yells, but Aiku’s already getting up, fetching a fabric box that Barou had failed to notice before when he was distracted by Aiku in a skirt and, now that he’s really looking, a thong?

The thong’s not half bad. Aiku wears it well. 

“Here’s your actual present,” Aiku says, doing what barely passes for a curtsey. Barou rolls his eyes, but takes the box. Sits down, opens it, and is again struck speechless. Several new packs of Quickle™ wipes, travel-sized version of several cleaning products he prefers, and full-size versions of the rest of them—Barou had brought a good supply for his trip, but he’d foregone bringing everything he wanted. He’d complained as much while packing, talking mostly to himself while Aiku was taking questionable selfies for his instagram account which, in Barou’s opinion, largely amounts to softcore porn. 

Strangely, Barou doesn’t mind the amount of attention Aiku gets. Knowing that so many people want what’s his just feels right. Everyone should be jealous. As long as Aiku knows how he belongs to, Barou won’t complain when he posts yet another shirtless picture that conveniently highlights his abs. 

Questionable selfies or not, apparently Aiku had been listening while Barou talked to himself. Barou’s eyes narrow in satisfaction. He can now clean to his heart’s content while in Argentina, without needing to ensure his supplies last. There’s also a box each of latex and nitrile gloves, cleaning-specific gloves, and another box of gloves that seems to be elbow length and marketed towards something sexual. 

Well. Barou will have use for that too. 

Aiku, now sitting next to him, says, “Happy birthday, Shou-chan. That’s your real present. I mean, if you liked the maid thing I’d for sure go along with it, but I knew it was a long shot.”

Barou stares at him, unable to hide his surprise. His family had never been much for presents—his father, almost never, and his mother tended to get him typical kid stuff. Not that he was ungrateful to her; she had her hands full with his sisters most of the time. This is easily the most thoughtful gift he’s ever received. 

He blinks at Aiku. “What the fuck?”

Aiku’s eyebrows rise slightly. “Elaborate,” he says.

Barou picks up one of the bottles of cleaner and brandishes it at Aiku. “How’d you know which ones to get?”

“I snooped through your shit,” Aiku says promptly. “I thought about getting you bowling stuff, but I figured you had custom things, you know? And I don’t know anything about bowling, or if there’d be anywhere to go here so…”

Barou shakes his head. “You would’ve fucked that up.” He clears his throat. It’s hard to be sincere when Aiku has a fucking lacy maid headband on, but still. “You didn’t fuck this up, though. I’ll use this stuff. Thanks.”

“So you like it?”

Barou nods shortly. “I’d prefer a more dignified presentation, but… thank you. I’ll use these.”

Aiku beams at him. “Great! So, you wanna put it to use? I bet you’re dying to refill all your little bottles and stuff.”

Barou is dying to, actually, but was going to politely do it later. “Yes,” he says slowly, suspiciously. Aiku leans over the box to grin right in his face. 

“Yeah,” Aiku says, almost mockingly, “That’s right Shou-chan. I know you pretty well, can you believe it?”

Being so thoroughly understood is a foreign feeling. He stands, taking the box with him. “Then I’ll be taking these.”

“And taking me,” Aiku says, standing. “I’m dressed for the occasion, see?”

Barou nearly bites through his tongue trying not to laugh, and just ends up coughing. 

Aiku adds, “And you can show me the proper way to do stuff. You like that, right?”

Barou hugs his box to his chest, looking at Aiku suspiciously. “Yeah, but you don’t.”

Aiku waves a feather duster (where had he pulled that out from?) dismissively. “Ah, I don’t mind it. Besides, I wanna do whatever makes you happy, so…”

“I have high standards,” Barou warns him.

“And I’m not a completely inept idiot,” Aiku replies, mimicking Barou’s tone. “Try me.”

It’s no surprise that Aiku is competent. He always is, when he decides to be. They quickly work through the box, until hitting the contents at the bottom. Barou holds up a box of elbow-length nitrile gloves like an accusation. “Tell me. Exactly what did you think we’d be doing with these?”

Aiku grabs another box and holds it up, imitating Barou’s posture. “Using it with these latex sheets! Clean-up will be so easy.” 

Barou drops the gloves and grabs the box, reading the outside, feeling taken aback. “We should’ve been using this all along,” he frowned. “Finally, a useful product.”

”Maybe even useful today,” Aiku said with a bad attempt at slyness. 

“You’re not putting your entire forearm in my ass,” Barou says point-blank. “I don’t want to get that stretched out.”

He knows that anal sphincter muscles can recover swiftly, but that’s a lot, and the prospect of feeling that loose with that much lube leaking out of him? He shudders. Aiku doesn’t look put-out at the rejection, just scratching thoughtfully at his stubble. “Okay… well, there’s always me?”

Barou raises an eyebrow. “You think you can fit my arm? Or anything at all?”

”Hah, well, it might be a stretch,” Aiku says. Barou considers sucker punching him, then goes ahead and does it. Aiku doubles over wheezing, flapping an amused hand Barou’s way to show he’s not really hurt. “Okay, okay, I asked for that one,” Aiku laughs. “Well, you’re the birthday boy, so you tell me what you want.”

“I always tell you what I want,” Barou says, unimpressed. “And I get it.”

Aiku rolls his eyes a little, muttering to himself, “I still don’t know why it’s so hot to me when you’re like that.” 

“‘Cause I’m the hottest bitch you’ll ever land,” Barou snorts, tossing the sheets at Aiku’s lace-covered chest. “Now be a good maid and go put these on.”

Aiku winks and heads out, but Barou changes his mind suddenly, grabbing the straps straining across Aiku’s back and yanking him to a halt. “Actually, go prep yourself. Thoroughly. I’ll set up.”

A delighted smile overtakes Aiku’s face, and a rare hint of nervousness. “Of course, my king,” he says, with a horrific curtsey that ruins the moment. 

Barou snorts out a laugh and leaves him to it. In an ideal world, he’d air the sheets out before using them, but it will have to do. He still can’t believe he’s considering putting his own hand into Aiku’s asshole, but the gloves are convincing. That, and Aiku’s short skirt has been driving him to distraction ever since he walked in the room. 

He still ends up waiting a while for Aiku, which is for the best. The cleaner Aiku gets, the better. Still, by the time Aiku flounces back into the room, Barou is beginning to consider the possibility of maybe second-guessing himself. 

“Shou-chan,” Aiku calls, opening his mouth to say something undoubtedly annoying so Barou stands, grabs Aiku, and uses his momentum against him to reverse their positions and shove Aiku down onto the bed. Aiku makes a noise as the air rushes out of his lungs, sending Barou a questioning look over his shoulder. 

Barou, annoyed about being in the presence of such nonsense as a maid outfit and even more annoyed that he’s turned on over it, scowls down at Aiku. Then, pointedly, he flips Aiku’s tiny shirt up. It lays in black ruffles that frame his muscled ass perfectly. The tiny thong disappears between his cheeks, but reappears as a black bulge that just peeks out between his thighs. Barou’s cock twitches. 

“Very lewd,” Aiku remarks, making an effort to arch his back and present his ass. “Surely you won’t take advantage of your, uh, helpless maid?”

”Shut up,” Barou snaps. He’s not interested in taking advantage of anyone, but he does feel the scalding urge to impose his will. He looms over Aiku, putting a heavy hand on his back both to pin him and so he can examine his ass more closely. “Show me your hole. I want to make sure it’s clean.”

”You don’t trust me? I was very thorough,” Aiku pouts, but his tone is playful. 

“If I didn’t trust you to, we wouldn’t be doing this,” Barou drones. “Now can you get on with it?”

With a prim noise, Aiku reaches back to spread his own cheeks. With great interest, Barou examines the soft hairs spread over his inner cheeks—Aiku had offered to get waxed once, but Barou has no issue with the body’s natural form and function—and the little hole itself, flushed from Aiku’s efforts to clean it. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he’s still relieved to see everything look fresh and clean. 

“Well?” Aiku squirms a little. He isn’t very good at playing the submissive maid. 

“Show me inside,” Barou demands. 

“Shou-chan,” Aiku complains, but does it anyway. He readjusts so his thumbs can reach his hole, pulls his thong to the side,  then grunts softly as he pushes the tips in. The ring of muscle is already a little swollen, and parts invitingly as Aiku breaches it, stretching into an oblong shape. Barou feels a bead of sweat roll down his neck. The same strange urge to take Aiku that he’d felt in Harajuku is building quickly, and he swallows as Aiku manages to pull himself wide enough Barou can see his clean, pink insides. 

“Good,” Barou says hoarsely. “Hold it open.”

Aiku huffs, but buries his face in a pillow and does it anyway. Barou backs off only long enough to pull on some gloves and bring the lube near.

“More,” Barou says, just to be a dick about it, just because he can. He watches Aiku’s little hole spread incrementally wider as he coats his gloved hands in lube. Why didn’t he think of long gloves earlier? He strips off one glove and plants his clean hand back on Aiku’s spine, and then  experimentally pushes his slick fingertip between Aiku’s thumbs. Aiku makes a sweet little strangled noise, so Barou leans on him hard and adds a second finger. 

“Shou-chan,” Aiku hisses. 

“What? Weren’t you going to fit my whole arm?” Barou asks. 

“You’re so mean,” Aiku complains. 

“Yes.” Barou sounds dispassionate, but mostly he’s focused on whether having his fingers in Aiku’s hot, tight hole is revolting or arousing. “You can take your thumbs out now. I want to find your prostate.”

Aiku’s thumbs slip out from beside his fingers, and before he can get all comfortable, Barou adds, “but keep your ass spread. It looks slutty,” he adds with a sneer. 

Aiku’s answering moan tells him all he needs to know. Barou’s attitude turns Aiku on, most of the time. Barou isn’t great about knowing when it isn’t welcome, but Aiku’s great about telling him. Today, it’s obvious enough that Barou doesn’t hesitate to lay it on thick.

“That’s three,” Barou says, slipping his third finger inside. He’s good enough with finding his own prostate that it isn’t difficult to locate Aiku’s, either. 

“Ah! Oh, that’s it, Barou-chan,” Aiku sighs happily. “You like playing with my ass? It’s not too dirty for your majesty?”

“Don’t remind me.” Barou works to distract them both, slowly fucking his fingers into Aiku and watching him jolt a little each time he strokes over his prostate. He’s not entirely comfortable with it, and the knowledge of where his fingers are keeps revulsion hovering around the edge of his awareness. But arousal keeps it at bay, and as Aiku’s noises grow more and more shameless, it becomes easier to get lost in what he’s doing. 

He only pauses when Aiku makes a truly unhappy noise, and says, “My shoulders are killing me.”

Ah. He’s still holding himself open for Barou. Pride at Aiku’s obedience warms Barou’s chest, and his approval is audible when he says, “You can let go. How old are you again?”

“Ha ha, screw you,” Aiku grumbles, then yelps when Barou prods his prostate. Barou mutters under his breath about insolent peasants, and shoves his fingers in a little hard. Aiku yips, jolts, then clutches at the pillow under his head. 

Barou definitely won’t get his arm in this session, but maybe someday… but he likes how tight Aiku is now, how his hole grips Barou’s fingers fitfully. He can imagine his cock there instead, how it might feel. The thought becomes like quicksand, and Barou pumps his fingers more quickly, imagining pressure squeezing around his cock instead, sliding up and down his shaft. How it might feel to press his hips against Aiku’s plump ass, grind into him. 

Aiku moans, his whole body going tight, then he starts those heavy panting breaths he does whenever he gets close. Barou realizes he’s been laying into him, that Aiku’s little hole is puffy and used and slick all over, and his wrist is almost cramping, and Barou wants to fuck him so badly his vision goes red. 

With a snarl, he yanks his hand out and ignores Aiku’s protesting wail. He strips off the nasty glove and fumbles a condom onto his cock, hissing when the unfamiliar motions take longer than necessary. 

“Shoei?” Aiku asks sharply. “What’s going on?”

“Hold still,” Barou snaps, then pushes him further up on the bed, and mounts him. His thighs bracket Aiku’s hips, and it immediately feels so right. 

“Barou?!”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” Barou explains impatiently, grabbing his cock and adjusting to line up properly. “Got a problem?”

“No, no, I was hoping you would,” Aiku says hurriedly. He cants his ass up, making his skirt pool attractively over his lower back. Barou’s mouth waters, and he’s done waiting. He can already feel the heat of Aiku’s entrance on the tip of his cock. His hips jerk forward on instinct and the head of his cock slips inside. It’s immediate ecstasy; Barou gasps, tensing all over as the sensitive glans is squeezed. Aiku’s hole pulses from the sudden intrusion, making Barou shudder and whine. Embarrassing.

“Shut up,” Barou hisses. Aiku, who hadn't made a single coherent sound, gives him a thumbs up.

It’s less overwhelming as Barou pushes deeper and that tight ring holds his shaft instead, but it feels way too good. The fleshlights he’s used don't compare to the heft of a body between his legs, or Aiku’s noises. Barou’s eyes roll up a little, and his toes curl where they hang off the edge of the bed. He needs more.

He pushes in, moaning helplessly as his cock is awash in pleasure. When he bottoms out, he just keeps grinding in and in, chasing more of that feeling. He forgets to be embarrassed of his moans, and Aiku’s are louder than him anyway.

“That’s good, feels so so good,” Aiku gushes, shivering beneath him.

Barou grunts in response, then experiments with pulling out and thrusting back in. He can feel Aiku tight around his shaft, sliding back and forth, even better than he imagined. He pulls all the out next, and gets that same hit of bliss when he pushes his cock inside.

Aiku’s grounds turn into whimpers, broken by his stuttered breathing as he tries to shove his ass up against Barou. 

“Slut,” Barou says wonderingly, then accuses, “You love getting fucked.”

Aiku nods, any words muffled by the pillow beneath his face. Barou will give him just what he wants, then. He grabs the back of Aiku’s dress and fucks him selfishly, rutting against his ass and letting the pleasure wash over him. Aiku only gets louder, letting out sharp gasps when Barou fucks against his prostate.

Soon Aiku’s breath evens out to long, slow, moaned out breaths. Barou doesn't slow, feeling sweat roll down his chest. Pleasure builds slow and sure, starting in his cock but gathering between his legs, his tight balls, and spreading through the rest of him. 

Aiku makes a strangled noise, his hole clenching hard around Barou’s cock, and his little noises are soft and sweet as Barou continues to plow into him. When Aiku goes slack, Barou leans over him and tugs on his hair.

“Let me see,” Barou says. Aiku turns his head, letting Barou see his bleary eyes and flushed cheeks. He looks completely fucked out, his cheek smooshes cutely against the pillow. “That’s it,” Barou says, drinking in the sight of him. 

Aiku makes an unintelligible noise arching his back as if inviting more. Barou obliges, panting as he takes his pleasure. He gets close all too soon and there was never any question of holding back.

He cums with a strangled yell, jamming his cock in as deep as he can manage before unloading his balls. The rush of finishing inside someone is intoxicating, and Barou doesn't even realize he has Aiku’s name on his lips until he’s completely stilled. He lets out a ragged breath, trying to take stock. He’s sweaty, his head is spinning, and there’s sweat soaked through the front of his shirt. He’d left his pants rumpled on the floor. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Barou mutters. What had come over him? He still feels too good to truly be upset, so he carefully pulls out and ties off the full condom, dropping it in the trash alongside the discarded gloves. Aiku still lies prone, a heap of muscle and maid frills. Barou looks at him for a moment, quietly appreciative, before sitting next to him. 

“Hey,” he says. Aiku mumbles something. Frowning, Barou pushes at his shoulder until Aiku rolls on his back. He still looks fucked out, meeting Barou’s eyes through lowered lashes. Barou smooths a hand over his chest. “You good? You look like shit.”

Aiku nods, a sleazy little smile crossing his face. He stretches his arms out in front of him, then shakes his head a little as though waking up. “I bet,” he says dreamily. 

“You wanna cum?” Barou asks, eying the wrinkled front of his skirt. 

Aiku looks delighted. “Oh? But I already did.”

“Hah? When?”

“Right after you stuck your big fat cock in me,” Aiku laughs. “I was already right on the edge, baby. What’d you expect?”

Barou scowls at him, reaching over to lift up his skirt.

“Hey! I’m a lady!” Aiku gasps. Barou ignores this, instead drinking in the sight of the front of Aiku’s thong (with a little black bow, even) straining to contain his half-hard cock and soaked in cum. “Maybe not that much of a lady,” Aiku concedes graciously. “Ah, that was fun. I always forget how much fun butt stuff is.”

“I see.” Barou eases down next to him, and lets Aiku crawl onto his chest. 

“What’d you think?” Aiku asks. 

Barou hums, already beginning to play with Aiku’s hair on autopilot. “I like you in a thong,” he says. 

“Noted.”

“Oi, don’t do anything crazy. We’re here for soccer, not whatever you’re thinking about right now.”

“No promises,” Aiku says cheerfully. “Speaking of—we’ve still got practice later.”

Barou rather wishes they could stay there longer, but he has his priorities. Aiku gets washed up, and he puts the sheets in a hamper for later. He finds Aiku in the bathroom, struggling to untie the bow at the small of his back.

“It’s a shame I have to take this off,” Aiku sighs as Barou reaches around him. “I just don’t think Coach would appreciate this on the pitch.”

“It’s definitely not a shame,” Barou grunts, helping him out of the skirt and immediately beginning to fold it. Aiku does the same with the top, then gives Barou a very unsettling once-over.

“You know, this would be very flattering on you,” Aiku says, not at all slyly. 

In a flash, Barou snatches the apron and furiously folds. “I am never wearing that shit! Did those jackasses talk to you about their maid Barou bullshit?”

Aiku shrugs, pulling sweatpants on over his thong. Is he going to wear that to practice? Barou can’t think straight.

Aiku says, “Everyone knows about that, honey. So, never never? Or like never, but you want me to keep bugging you about it?”

Barou pushes him away, rolling his eyes. “I said what I said—ask me again in a year or something. If this stupid relationship even lasts that long.”

“It’ll last,” Aiku says, with a manic gleam in his eyes that probably comes entirely from his desire to see Barou in a dress and not at all from genuine commitment to their relationship. Whatever. If it keeps Aiku properly obsessed with him, then Barou will tolerate it. 

Aiku also warns him that there will be some kind of birthday dinner, and then warns him that he’d better not ditch. With groups over, the team has a small amount of time off, and far too much celebratory energy which Barou is now the reluctant recipient of. But he still shows his face, enjoys the food, even if he feels like being born is a stupid thing to be celebrated for. 

They can celebrate him when he wins the fucking World Cup, that’s what.

Notes:

I honestly wasn't going to have Barou fuck him because I'm enamored with Barou who refuses to touch anyone anus, HOWEVER he was overcome by the sight of Aiku in a thong. I imagine him like, going into the human version of an alpha rut lmfao

Thank you all SO MUCH for the comments and kudos so far, I read and reread them all the time even if I am slow to reply <33 it rly means the world to get to share aibr with you all!

oh um also my bad if the smut scene where aiku gets fucked is like, 100% unedited. I am posting this in the last 9 minutes of Barou's bday in my timezone so it is what it is T-T also I did originally write this in like Sept 2024 so I did NOT know where the U-20 World Cup would be held in canon yet alas

Chapter 9: sendou?? what are you doing here??

Notes:

happy birthday Aiku I'm sorry I didn't draw you something cute like I did for Barou, but at least i got you this!

I think I forgot to mention this earlier but iirc Blue Lock canonically occurs in 2019? The actual 2019 FIFA men’s U-20 cup was held in Poland. However, I thought it was Argentina for some reason and wrote a bunch with that in mind and didn’t want to do back and change it once I realized T-T

Sendou had seriously considered not involving Barou in all this, but the prospect of having to explain to Aiku why he didn’t is somehow even more unpleasant than approaching Barou. Aiku, his darling, easygoing friend Aiku, becomes very un-easygoing when he feels anyone is being unfair to Barou. Intentionally not including Barou in planning Aiku’s surprise birthday celebration would qualify as unfair, in Aiku’s book. 

That’s why Sendou has found himself in their reserved karaoke room half an hour early, fidgeting while he watches Barou fuss around, cleaning it to his satisfaction. While Barou had professed his lack of desire to do karaoke with Aiku’s extensive friend group (seriously, why is Aiku dating him again?), he had offered to bankroll the entire thing without batting an eyelid. 

It’s probably the first nice thing he’s ever seen Barou do for Aiku, or for anyone but himself, and that’s counting simple things like handing out a single compliment. Sendou had called him on it once, Barou had told him to mind his fucking business before storming off, and then Aiku had pulled him aside, put a heavy hand on his shoulder, and said dead serious, “Don’t ever speak to him like that again.”

Sendou shudders just remembering it. 

Sue him for worrying about his friend shacking up with someone who is clearly unsuited for him, even if Barou isn’t the worst guy in the world. And, thanks to him, everything is in place for tonight. Aiku still doesn’t know, well, he’ll have guessed from the suspicious lack of plans and the instructions to keep his evening free, but still.

He is startled by his thoughts when Barou claps his hands together, dusting them off. 

“It’s clean now,” he announces. “Just in time for everyone to make it filthy again.”

Sendou doesn’t point out that Barou didn’t need to clean. Their time together on the Ubers already taught him that it’s pointless. 

“Well, it is a party,” he says with a half-hearted laugh. “Did you get Aiku anything?”

Barou looks down his nose at him from across the room. “Outside of reserving this dump?”

Oh, right. Sendou didn’t know the specifics, but it was at least ¥50,000, if not more. He doesn’t know the exchange rate. 

“Yes, I did,” Barou goes on with a sneer. “I’m gonna kill him if he chugs the whole bottle like an idiot.”

“Some kind of alcohol, then? He’s gonna love it.” Sendou feels kinda bad, now. Barou obviously cares in whatever weird gorilla capacity he has.

Aiku’s 20th birthday means the guy has legal access to alcohol, which is mildly concerning when Sendou thinks about it. Strangely enough, he’s kind of grateful to have Barou around—now Sendou won’t be the only one trying to keep Aiku from becoming a self-destructive alcoholic. 

It’s sheer luck that they’re on break before the next stage of the World Cup, and Aiku won’t be tempted to drink the night before a game. Like, he probably wouldn’t, but he’d also sulk about it for months if he didn’t get smashed on his 20th. 

Barou grunts, bringing Sendou back to the present. “Whatever. If he doesn’t, I’ll get him something else.” He heads to the door.  “Tell him hello from me, would you?”

“You’re not staying?” Sendou balks. 

Barou looks at him like he’s gone mad. “Why would I? I don’t wanna listen to a bunch of mouthbreathers try to sing all night.”

“I mean, Aiku would probably want you there.” Sendou’s a national hero, honestly. 

Barou pauses by the door. “That’s what he thinks. But if I’m there he’s gonna spend the whole time trying to make sure I’m having fun, which is a fucking impossible task.”

Aw, now that is kinda cute. Stupid, but cute. Sendou flaps a hand at him. “It’ll be fine. Get a few drinks in him and he’ll forget all about you.”

Barou’s mouth twists into a snarl, and Sendou backtracks at warp speed.

“That sounded bad, I mean, not like that—he just won’t be worried about that stuff, you know?”

Barou drags a hand down his face. “Fine. But I’m leaving if it sucks ass.”

Sendou grins. “He’ll just be happy you’re here at all. In fact, he’ll be here soon.”

Aiku arrives with a flood of their old U-20 friends, who’d been keeping him occupied—Sendou had a very real fear Aiku would take off on some drinking spree the second it was legal, and never be seen again. He rushes over to Sendou first, sweeping him up in a rib-crushing hug, lifting him off the floor and spinning him around exuberantly. 

He sets him down too carelessly, and Sendou’s dizzy as Aiku grabs him by the shoulders and shouts his thanks for organizing everything. He’s already flushed, though one drink will kick-start Aiku’s alcohol allergy, so that’s not saying much. 

Barou, who’d taken a strategic seat far from the door, escapes his immediate notice. Not for long though, the moment Aiku sees him he shouts, “Barou-chan!” and makes for him like a homing missile. Barou looks like somebody just announced it’s his turn for the electric chair.

Aiku practically skids to a halt right in front of Barou—no rib-crushing hugs for him, it seems. Sendou doesn’t know whether to feel superior or jealous. Aiku says something, grinning ear-to-ear, which makes Barou roll his eyes. 

Sendou just doesn’t get it. He’s never seen anyone rebuff Aiku so consistently, but he’s also never seen Aiku so obviously gleeful about being around someone, either. Guy’s fucked in the head. They both are.

But then Barou reaches up, takes Aiku by the back of the head, and kisses him right on the mouth. 

Sendou’s jaw drops. He stares. Rudely so, but he can’t help it. The most PDA he’s seen from this couple is stuff like Aiku putting a hand on Barou’s knee without getting any of his fingers broken. 

But they’re kissing, and obviously comfortable with it. Aiku leans further over Barou to deepen the kiss, and Barou’s other hand goes to his waist. Realizing they aren’t stopping anytime soon, Sendou flushes and turns away, feeling like a dirty voyeur. 

He makes himself busy getting everyone situated and making sure the Blue Lock crew know the right address. The night goes well. It’s a regrettable sausage fest, compared to how Sendou used to populate any Aiku-related celebration with lots of cute girls. It felt a little tacky to do so when Aiku’s in a relationship, though, (how does that work when Aiku’s bisexual?) and also Sendou is kind of scared of Barou.

Thankfully, Barou has settled down next to Sae (ostensibly bribed to attend by Shidou, whom Aiku has become strangely fond of), and they’re both refusing to sing, talk, or do anything but pick at the provided snacks. They could just as easily be sitting in the cafeteria as in a crowded karaoke room. 

Sendou quits worrying about it and starts worrying about showing everyone why he’s better at karaoke than everyone else. With the arrival of the rest of the Blue Lockers, the party really kicks into gear. 

Raichi does some screamo song which no one is quite drunk enough for yet, Shidou puts on some edm mess and proceeds to make edm noises into the mic for the duration (Sae continues to not acknowledge his existence, although he and Barou have found some of what looks like sparkling water). For his part, Barou appears to be staring into the distance with a vaguely pained expression that’s rather at odds with the colorful disco lights flashing across his face.

Aryu sings some ballad and adds in far too many of his own ad libs (Styl), Aiku comes in with Tell Me Baby and drags Sendou up to sing it with him, as per tradition. Sendou follows it up with his latest favorite, then stays up there to help Kurona stumble through whatever song his friends had picked for them. 

He finally gets off the stage, feeling pleasantly buzzed as he orders more food and cheers on everyone else. Everything’s going great, so he’s completely shocked when Aiku grabs the sleeve of his shirt and rudely yanks him aside.

“Sendou,” Aiku hiss-whispers, “Who got my Shou-chan drunk? I’m gonna kill them,” Aiku goes on, stepping up close, too close, so close his chest bumps against Sendou’s as he crowd him backwards. Aiku, Sendou realizes, is already completely blasted.

“Aiku, calm down,” Sendou says, crossing his arms to get some space. “It’s not a big deal, Barou probably just wanted a drink.”

“He doesn’t drink,” Aiku says emphatically, “and it’s his first time being drunk. He’s,” Aiku leans in conspiratorially, “soooo cute. So so cute. What if someone sees?”

“Um. Then I guess they’ll see?” Sendou is starting to really miss when Aiku just wanted to chase girls around, even if competing with Aiku for their attention was unfairly hard. This might actually be worse.

Aiku throws a heavy arm around Sendou’s shoulders, making him stagger. 

“Then,” Aiku says mournfully, “life wouldn’t be worth living. Shou-chan’s cute side is mine. Miiiiine. No one can know. I’ll kill myself.”

The “Shou-chan” in question is still sitting completely calmly, only moving or speaking to yell at someone for not using a coaster or something else inane. The only difference from his normal severe countenance is the faint flush on his tanned cheeks. 

“You’re insane,” Sendou says, shoving Aiku off him. “And drunk. No one’s even talking to him. Look, I’ll get him some water til he sobers up, okay? I’ll take care of it, go have fun.”

Aiku looks at him suspiciously through his bangs. “You’re trying to steal my adorable Shou-chan.”

Sendou mimes gagging. “I’d rather die, dude, come on.”

Aiku’s shaking his head. “No, Shuuto, I have to take care of this myself. I can’t trust anyone with him…”

“I don’t even know why this involved me in the first place,” Sendou says crossly, albeit somewhat amused. He does secretly enjoy when Aiku is a mess.

He watches as Aiku stumbles off, nearly falling onto Barou’s lap when he reaches him. Barou and Sae each lecture him briefly, then Aiku and Barou have some kind of brief conversation. Aiku points at one of the bottles on the table—in retrospect, maybe Sendou should’ve warned Barou about those spiked refreshers which do actually really look like sparkling water and taste like nothing—Barou yells something, tries to get up, looks visibly disoriented, and sits down heavily. Sae leaves to find an unoccupied couch. 

Aiku cups Barou’s cheek, saying something else. Barou turns improbably redder, looking away like a shy girl. It is, Sendou realizes with distaste, kinda cute. 

Then Aiku climbs fully onto Barou’s lap, straddling him, and starts kissing up his neck and maybe Sendou should’ve handled this, he’s certain he’s about to watch Aiku die—but Barou tips his head away, giving Aiku more space to work with. Then he grabs Aiku’s waist, hands sliding up the back of his shirt, rubbing over his back, occasionally dipping down the back of his pants. Utterly shamelessly feeling him up. In front of the whole fucking room, and people aren’t not looking.

Huh. Maybe Sendou should’ve handled this for a different reason entirely, specifically to protect the rest of the room from seeing them sucking face. In another heroic move, Sendou keeps the party moving, gets the next song queued up—Shidou is singing something heinous by a band with an all caps name and Sae is looking at his watch—and figures it’ll be over soon. 

It’s not, though. The next time he glances over, Aiku is still plastered to Barou’s front, well on his way to covering the entirety of his neck in hickeys. 

Whatever. It’s his party. Sendou should’ve just invited some cute girls, honestly. He keeps an eye on them as time goes on, and thankfully Aiku is a somewhat functional drunk, regularly separating from Barou to make sure he’s drinking actual water. Aiku, however, is absolutely not. He’s drinking as much alcohol as Barou is water, and ends up curled up in Barou’s lap, feeling him up shamelessly. The fact that Barou, who is clearly sobering up, allows it is fundamentally shocking. 

Sendou’s not the only one who feels this way, he’s certain, but the rest of the party is lively enough to keep anyone from dwelling on it. 

Even more shocking is when Aiku suddenly reappears at his side, smelling like those spike refreshers, in only his undershirt and looking pleased as punch. 

“He fell asleep,” he tells Sendou, pointing at Barou, whose head is tipped back against the edge of the couch, Aiku’s shirt laid over his torso and tucked under his chin. “It’s 10 PM,” Aiku goes on gleefully, “so it’s his bedtime. And he fell asleep.”

“How many people is he gonna kill when he wakes up?” Sendou asks doubtfully.

“And he’s so cute, just falling asleep like that,” Aiku says, swaying slightly. He leans in close, somberly looking at Shinsou. “Do you think they have Basshunter here? I wanna sing DotÅ again.”

Aiku’s gone before Sendou even has a chance to reply, in search of whoever’s currently in charge of the music and effortlessly rejoining the party like he always does. It’s almost a relief to see Aiku acting like himself again, like old times. If Sendou doesn’t think to hard, he can kind of equate Aiku feeling up his latest catch on the dancefloor to Aiku crawling all over Barou on the couch. Same kind of vibe, right? Even if Barou was a thousand times more difficult. 

Speaking of, Barou doesn’t actually commit homicide when he wakes up, but he sure looks like he wants to. Aiku attempts to hang all over him again, and is held at arm’s length—Aiku probably reeks of beer by now, and Barou looks painfully sober and somewhat embarrassed. Sendou watches out of the corner of his eye when Aiku goes in for a kiss on the mouth, gets emphatically rejected, and receives a kiss on his forehead instead. 

Then Barou looks at Sendou, his frown evident across the room. It’s the first time he’s looked away from Aiku this entire time, Sendou thinks, and something about that makes his heart squeeze strangely. But he’s also well past sober, and Barou’s expression is more than enough to make his blood run cold. 

Barou heads towards him like a shark that’s scented blood, salmon-pink Sendou blood. He stays frozen to the spot, frantically looking around for Aiku, but spots him in deep conference with Nikko, who is queuing up songs. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Barou’s hand closes around his bicep, and he finds himself being dragged from the room.

Who had Sendou named on his will? He hopes it’s not Aiku. He doesn’t deserve it anymore, not if his boyfriend is about to murder Sendou.

The hallway is stunningly quiet in comparison, although the soundtrack does its best to thud its way through the door. Barou sighs once the door fully closes behind them, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Sendou squares his shoulders, feeling far too drunk to deal with this and absolutely certain that Barou would flatten him in a fight, no matter how little he likes to admit it. 

“You have my number, right?” Barou asks point blank. 

Sendou takes a beat to process, then nods. 

Shaking his head, Barou says, “Good. I’m going home, but the reservation will be over soon. Call me if there’s any issue with anything.”

Oh, okay. That’s not too bad at all. 

“Right, yeah,” Sendou says slowly. 

Barou steps up to him and leans down to shove his ugly mug in Sendou’s pretty face. Barou growls, “I’m leaving my ringer on, so if you call me for a stupid fucking reason, I will get out of bed, come find you, and break every bone in your body.”

That’s more like it. “Fine, whatever,” Sendou says, making a face as he tries to remain unintimidated. 

Barou huffs, backing away and casting a baleful look at the door, then goes back to glaring at Sendou. “I know you idiots are going to drink through the night. You should also call me if Aiku needs anything, you know.”

Sendou is suddenly out of his depth. “I know?” he’s genuinely confused. 

Barou makes a frustrated noise, muttering something about being surrounded by idiots. Then he says, “If he needs picked up, or if anything happens. Like that.”

Ah, now that Sendou thinks about it, that’s well within the realm of possibility. Before he can answer, a sudden rush of pure noise hits them as Karasu opens the door and sticks his crow head out. 

“Oi, Sendou, Aiku wants you for his next song.”

“Oh, I—” Sendou stammers, glancing at Barou, who is still standing forbiddingly close. 

Karasu grabs his arm and tugs him towards the party. “Thought ya might need some rescuin,’” he says with a wink and a nod at Barou, who sneers. 

“You have my number,” Barou says menacingly, then stalks off down the hallway. It doesn’t sit right with Sendou, for some reason, but Karasu’s dragging him back inside before he can really think it through. He kind of gets why Aiku is so protective of Barou, he thinks, but is quickly distracted by the party. 

Most people go home after the reservation is over, given nearly all of them have a professional sports career to attend to. Shidou left long ago in Sae’s wake, likely off to do something equally sexual and unspeakable. 

Aiku’s going to be out all night though, which means Sendou is too. Otoya sticks around, as do a few others. It’s quieter, but still fun. Otoya and Sendou even manage to find some cute girls, and Sendou has half an eye on Aiku the whole while—not that he’d try to stop him from cheating, but he still wants to know if it happens. 

Aiku drinks, he flirts, he laughs with their friends, buys drinks for the nearest pretty girl… and somehow that’s all he does. They head to a pub for the last place of the night, finishing it out with fried food and a nice, warm atmosphere. Sendou sits next to Aiku, attempting to get at least a little water into him. 

“Barou’ll kill me if you die of alcohol poisoning,” Sendou says persuasively. 

“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” Aiku says, slurring his words slightly, “although… I guess he’d figure it out if I died.”

”Yeah, you think?” Sendou snorts. 

“Hm.” Aiku looks thoughtful, as though he needs to deeply contemplate alcohol poisoning. Then he says hazily, “You know, I think I’m in love with him.”

Sendou drops his piece of fried plantain onto the table in his shock. “Huh?”

“With Barou-chan,” Aiku says with an unsteady nod, then rests his cheek on his fist. “Are you gonna eat that?”

”You—you can’t just say that and move on!” Sendou squawks. Aiku doesn’t fall in love. He’s not in love with people, and as improbable as dating with any attempt at commitment was, this is infinitely more shocking. 

Although, now that he thinks back to the strange ease Aiku and Barou had with each other even in an environment as chaotic as that karaoke room… maybe it’s not so shocking, after all. 

Aiku ignores him blithely, grabs Sendou’s abandoned plantain off the table and pops in his mouth, then continues rambling on about whatever drunken tangent is going on at the table. Sendou wonders if he’s even going to remember it in the morning. 

---

Barou loves the clean scent of air just after rain, even if it means the pitch will be muddy and slippery. For someone of his skill, it presents little obstacle. A month or so into the World Cup league, Japan is doing unprecedentedly well—this was the quarterfinals game. 

The Japan U-20 had the victory, in a huge upset against the Brazillian team. The crowd is screaming, and Barou lets himself indulge in the win for a few moments longer—next was semifinals, then finals. He’d only have two more chances to appreciate the pure rush of crushing the opposition in front of the entire world. 

And Barou is going to crush them. He will sit himself on the throne that belongs to the world’s greatest striker alone. U-20 for now, but he’s fiercely please he has even farther to climb to reach his goal. 

But for now, they have the quarterfinals win. 

They’re off to a good start; Barou had scored another hat trick, something that he didn’t hesitate to rub in Isagi’s face (who had only scored two goals, like a loser. Whether or not he’d assisted most of Barou’s goals is inconsequential). A team made up almost entirely of former strikers leads to soccer games with higher scores—and higher revenue. The JFA loves them.

That said, they won by a single point. In additional time. Barou was able to strip off his shirt without fearing a yellow card, and as typically happens, he is swarmed by his team for the victory. 

One of the other small changes in his life is that now Aiku bothers to haul ass across the field to climb all over Barou alongside everyone else. Staggering under the combined weight, Barou relishes the satisfaction of victory, the cruel reality of it reflected on the defeated team’s face. 

He’s still hopped up on adrenaline when the opposing team’s ace approaches him, or rather shoulder checks him on his way off the pitch.

Barou wheels around, adrenaline crystallizing into fury. Their coach must be paying attention, since he can see him jogging over. 

“Watch yourself,” Barou snarls. “Losers should stay out of my way.”

The other man scoffs. “We barely lost that. It was a fluke, wasn’t it? You can’t do anything without that short guy helping you, huh?”

“Hah?” Barou shouts, grabbing a fistful of the guy’s jersey. “The King doesn’t have flukes. You lost because you suck. You should take this as a much-needed lesson on why you don’t deserve to walk on the same pitch as me.”

The ace spits on the ground, then sneers at him. “I’m not surprised you have to intimidate people to get anywhere. Typical meathead jock. You’re gonna fall off in a few years, just wait.”

Barou laughs in his face. “I’ll never fall off. You already have. Subpar dribbling. Weak shooting power. All your moves are telegraphed. Did you have to pay your way onto the team? You should quit now and save yourself the—”

A heavy hand on his shoulder jerks him backwards, hard enough to break his grip. Barou turns on the new person, but it’s not the opposing coach, it’s Aiku.

Team Captain Aiku, not Barou’s very permissive boyfriend Aiku. 

“Aiku,” Barou snarls, and gets a hand on his chest in response, holding him back as Aiku steps forward. The other coach has finally arrived, panting slightly. Aiku bows politely. 

“Apologies for my teammate, Barou-san is still excited from our intense match.”

Barou stews, but remains behind him. He won’t undermine Aiku in this situation, no matter how pissed he is. 

“Still, such behavior is unacceptable,” the coach frowns. “Pierre deserves an apology.”

Barou would rather die than apologize to a loser, but Aiku beats him to the punch. 

“We’re very sorry,” he says, straightening up and extending a hand. “It was a good game. Your team played well. Pierre, too.”

After a tense moment, the loser ace steps forward to shake Aiku’s hand, followed by the coach.

Barou’s teeth are grinding audibly, and he can’t stand watching Aiku suck up any further. He turns to leave, picking his way over the muddy field. 

“Thank you,” Pierre says snootily. “You should consider benching that player before he gets kicked out of the league.”

“I get it,” Aiku says. Outraged, Barou halts to eavesdrop. Aiku continues, “But you know, the best talent always comes with strong personalities. As a center back, I was able to see your skill in a way Barou couldn’t—”

“That’s right—” Pierre interrupts.

Aiku goes on as if he hadn’t spoken. “And you’re even weaker than he said. World-class talent doesn’t make excuses, Pierre. In the future, don’t step up to Barou unless you’re able to beat him. And clearly… you aren’t.”

“You—the nerve,” the coach sputters. Barou turns around in time to see their angry, red faces. 

They say something about calling Aiku’s manager (an exercise in futility, when Aiku remains the JFA’s favorite pet second only to Sae himself), and Aiku politely excuses himself to catch up with Barou.

“You shouldn’t pick fights with the other team,” Aiku scolds, clapping a hand on Barou’s shoulder as they walk away.

Barou looks at him sidelong. “I’m surprised you said all that. Aren’t you supposed to be nice?”

Aiku’s stern facade immediately gives way to a sharp smile. “I was being nice, Shou-chan. Pruning inadequate talent is a mercy.”

“Is it, now.”

“Mhm. Sorry to steal your thunder, but my drive as a defender is to destroy mediocre strikers. I may not have managed to be a forward, but I’m sure as hell not going to let the soccer world be filled with people who can’t even score a goal on me.”

Barou is abruptly reminded of the first time he’d faced off against Aiku, and everything he’d said. As he’d been then, Aiku must have thought he was stopping another shitty striker—until Barou proved him wrong by growing and improving by the next time they faced off.

“You’re no better than I am,” Barou scoffs. “You just like watching the hope die in their eyes, don’t you?”

Aiku meets his eyes, matching Barou’s intensity as effortlessly as always. “Looks like you found me out, Shou-chan. Want to know the real, ugly truth?”

Barou inclines his head in invitation. Aiku’s smile turns even nastier. 

“I like it even better when you’re the one who destroys them. Keep up the hard work, ace.”

With that, he smacks Barou on the back and trots off to rejoin their team. Barou follows more slowly, adrenaline giving way to an odd, burning feeling in his chest. It’s as all-consuming as his most fierce hatred, but… it feels a lot more like love than it does hate. 

He won’t go and shout it from the rooftops, but Barou knows. He’s falling in love.

Notes:

was it cheesy? idk. I ask myself this sometimes when I'm writing and then remember they're 18 & 19 and full of hormones ofc they're falling all over the place

anyway I hope you guys enjoyed Aiku's bday chapter!! <33 I plan to be back to updating this regularly. thank you all so so much for the comments and kudos I love them more than Aiku loves pachinko and Barou loves kicking balls

Chapter 10: dulce de leche

”What about a beach date,” Aiku says. They have a precious day off tomorrow, a rare occurrence now that the World Cup is in full swing. They’re in the locker room after practice, and Aiku no longer bothers to be discreet about their relationship. Barou himself removed any need for that when he’d gotten inebriated in that stupid karaoke room, and it is more convenient this way. 

Besides, he really doesn’t care if people give them looks or whatever else. It’s only natural for commoners to be curious about the life of their ruler, and it certainly doesn’t mean Barou needs to spare a single thought for them. 

“Think about it,” Aiku goes on, leaning against Barou’s locker and only getting away with it because he’s shirtless and fresh out of the showers and hot as hell. “Nice warm sand—”

“I hate sand. Gets everywhere.” 

“Clean air, cute little beach vendors, hot girls everywhere, wait, ignore that last one,” Aiku amends quickly. 

Barou raises an eyebrow at him. “Not your best work,” he says. “No date for you.”

“I’d wear a skimpy little speedo for you,” Aiku tries. “A thong one, even.”

“Ew,” Reo says from the other row of lockers. “Get a room?”

“Hypocrite,” Chigiri says a little too loudly from next to him. By now, everyone’s seen Reo have at least one mental breakdown over his limp-dicked boyfriend. 

Barou imagines Aiku in a speedo (spandex tucked between his muscular ass cheeks, tightly cupping his genitals, how he’d probably be able to at least see the outline, how everyone on the beach could too, how Aiku’s dark happy trail would be exposed, how he’d probably start getting freckles on those pale thighs of his), and then thinks that maybe they’ll make time for the beach after finals. Or maybe a nice clean pool, if such a thing exists outside of Japan. 

Ignoring everyone else, he says to Aiku, “For me, or for all the hot girls on the beach?”

Aiku laughs, tossing his head back. His grin is rakish when he looks at Barou again. “Fine, fine, I coulda played that better. I’ll get you next time.”

Later that night, Aiku is sprawled on Barou’s bed. Having their own rooms really was a game changer. He even allows Aiku to sleep with him; he’s found it comes at no detriment to his rest. Aiku looks up from his phone—Barou suspects he’d been image searching Argentinian women on beaches, or something else skeevy—and says, “Dulce de leche?”

Barou pauses combing through his hair. “Who’s that? Some model?”

“What?” Aiku blinks at him, then shakes his head and tosses his phone on the bed. He then crawls over to Barou, cozying up to his side and disrupting his combing efforts. Barou scowls, but Aiku just says, “Dulche de leche is a kind of dessert with sweet caramel milk cream. It’s really popular around here.”

“We just ate dinner.”

“There’s a cafe nearby that specializes in it! Dulce de leche pudding, tres leches cake, cookies, whatever else. I’ll take you there after practice tomorrow—and before you say anything, Coach specifically said to let ourselves rest.”

Barou leans away from him doubtfully, retrieving Aiku’s phone to look at what turns out to be pictures of sweets on his screen. They do look good… “Fine,” he grunts. 

Aiku sucks in a breath, shifting around so he’s facing Barou. He takes Barou’s face in both hands, joy all over his stupid rugged face like he just won the lottery.

“What?” Barou grumbles, abandoning his comb. He’ll need to start all over again. 

Aiku’s eyes search his for a moment, then he gleefully says, “It’s a date, Shou-chan. I got you! No taking it back, Mr. King.”

Fuck. He’s right. Barou’s managed to shut him down for the last… how long now? Three or so months? The tres leches cake looked so good, though. 

Barou’s chest lifts as he heaves out a sigh, giving in. “Alright, dumbass. It’s a date. Just this once.”

Then Aiku’s kissing him, all warm and solid and Barou doesn’t think twice about kissing him back. 

When Aiku pulls away, he’s still smiling—and is holding up Barou’s comb. “I’ll finish for you, since I so rudely interrupted you.”

Barou agrees to that too. Somehow, despite the odds, he still can’t shake that feeling of being in love. 

 

Barou loves dulce de leche. He loves tres leches cake. He doesn’t love the self-satisfied smile on Aiku’s face, even though Barou has only expressed his satisfaction by eating everything on his plate. He’s content to sit silently and sip his tea, surrounded by the gentle ambiance of the cafe. It has a high ceiling, high windows with arced tops, and decorative pillars inside. The space is filled with enough plants to evoke a greenhouse, a warm and lush environment full of dappled shade. 

Outside, the lazy afternoon keeps the streets from being too busy. It’s peaceful to see the occasional pedestrian stroll past, the orange cat sunning itself on top of a fence across the street. 

“Do you ever smile?” Aiku asks, sipping at his chilled wine. “I mean, I know you’re happy. But now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.”

Reluctantly, Barou tears his eyes away from the scene outside to look at Aiku. “What kinda question is that? I don’t track when I smile.”

Barou doesn’t smile, and he knows it. His mom always begs him to smile for pictures, which worked up until his teens. He’ll need to keep Aiku away from his baby pictures. 

Aiku smiles behind his wine glass. “Oh? I bet you’re about to start, then, now that I’ve brought it up.”

Barou frowns. Aiku’s right again, much to his irritation. “You interrogate all your dates about how much they smile?” he grumbles. 

Aiku laughs softly, looks away, sets his wine glass down; it’s his way of enduring a surge of emotion. Barou knows how to recognize it by now, and he’s not above using Aiku’s pressure points to get a reaction. 

Aiku glances back at him from the corner of his eye, lashes lowered. “I’m gonna get you to smile sometime, Shou-chan.”

Barou scoffs. “Does that mean you’re gonna quit bugging me about dates?”

“Of course not,” Aiku says peaceably, turning back towards him and slouching comfortably in his chair. “Gotta get you to agree to a second one, don’t I? Maybe I’ll even get you to ask me out.”

“You’re delusional,” Barou says, looking down and carefully adding more sugar to his tea. “Whatever keeps your little gambling brain invested, huh?”

“Hm?”

“This game you’re playing,” Barou says slowly, regretting bringing it up. They’re having a nice time. Aiku was right—he is happy. He’s also not going to shove his head in the sand and pretend it’ll last forever. “What happens when you run out of shit to pry out of me?”

Aiku looks taken aback, but impressively not upset. “Who says I’m going to run out?” he says, setting down his wine glass and reaching across the table for Barou’s hand. Barou lets him take it. 

“Be realistic.”

“I am,” Aiku says, running his thumb over Barou’s knuckles. “You’re endlessly interesting, Shou-chan. What’s on your mind?”

“The logical result is pretty fucked, don’t you think? I let you in, and you get bored.”

Aiku’s jaw drops. “Holy shit, dude. How could I get bored when you say things like that?”

Barou shrugs one shoulder. Aiku’s hand on his feels kind of like a lifeline, the way his thumb still strokes over the back of his hand is grounding. 

“The real answer is I don’t know,” Aiku says more gently. “You’re not exactly an open book, Shouei. I like that about you, obviously, but I mean. Look at yourself. You’ve got more on offer than your amazingly impossible personality.”

Barou’s mouth twitches. “I’m aware.”

“Look, it’s impossible to know the future,” Aiku says expansively, “I tend to live in the moment, but I’m not worried. Whenever you let me in, I’m sure I’ll find that part of you just as fascinating as the rest.”

Barou huffs, mollified. It’s a nice sentiment, if not a convincing one. Far more than he really expected Aiku to say, at any rate. 

“You’d better,” Barou says sharply, but turns his hand palm up so their fingers can intertwine. The truth is that they probably won’t last that long. Finals are coming up, and after that he’ll seriously consider contract offers from foreign clubs. However well his relationship with Aiku may be going, he has no illusions that long distance would be a disaster. Even when Barou is front and center, he can tell Aiku gets restless.

“Hey, Shou-chan?” Aiku’s tone is playful again. Barou tips his chin up in acknowledgement. “I’m not that unreliable, you know. I’m not gonna get bored just ‘cause you smiled at me, okay?”

“I’d kill you if you did,” Barou tells him derisively. But also, “I know, idiot. I meant long term, not like this fuckin’ week.”

“Long-term, huh?” Aiku purrs. “You liiiike me, Shou-chan.”

Barou rolls his eyes. “Quit fishing for compliments. Is it time to go yet?”

“Almost! After I finish this,” he says, holding up his wine, “and then we’re going to walk down the street to enjoy a very romantic view of the ocean.”

“You—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Aiku says firmly. 

“—put a lot of effort into this date, huh?” Barou finishes, glaring at him. Aiku demonstratively shuts his mouth, and Barou continues. “For you, at least. I imagine the bar is typically pretty low.”

Aiku takes a long drink of his wine, feigning offense when his eyes are crinkled in a smile. “Turns out I want you to have a good time,” he says. 

Barou returns to watching the street outside, how the bright blue afternoon is now going orange and pink with sunset. “I am,” he says. 

 

They win the World Cup. Barou scores the first goal of the game, and Isagi and Rin score the last three so it’s actually a loss for Barou (although losing the entire game as well would have felt even worse. He’ll acknowledge that much.) Being subbed out when they won, though, was an indignity he’ll never forgive Ego for. 

Aiku had played out of his mind. Barou isn’t easy to impress, and he’s already familiar with Aiku’s skill level… this was something else. He was relentless, focused, his defensive plays unmatched on the field—and therefore in the entire U-20 body of players. It reminds Barou of when he’d first met Aiku, and his promise to become the best center back in the world. It didn’t mean that much coming from some 17-year-old, but seeing Aiku like this? It seems impossible for him to fail. 

Sure, Isagi (that little rat bastard) had scored the glorious last goal, and Barou’s pissed enough he can barely think about anything else—but also it was Aiku who had cleared the ball that would’ve let their opponents break the tie, possibly win, and thus avoided additional time.    

It was an unprecedented number of goals for a World Cup Final.

“Still mad about robber-chan’s goal?” Aiku asks, dropping down next to Barou. The game was over yesterday, the team had partied through the night, and it’s now afternoon the next day. Most of them are flying out tomorrow, but some are staying to sight-see. It’s a rare opportunity, after all. 

Barou won’t be staying. 

“Shou-chan?”

“I’m always gonna be pissed about it,” Barou growls. “I’m never gonna have another chance to destroy him in this bracket.”

“You’ll have to destroy him in the big leagues, then,” Aiku says mildly. 

“You played well,” Barou grunts. 

“It felt fucking amazing,” Aiku says, hanging over the back of the couch and rubbing his grubby finger over Barou’s tablet’s screen, scrolling the video back to one of his plays. “I’m fucking swarmed with offers, but I’m not looking at anything until I’m back home.”

Right. Barou turns off his tablet and puts it a safe distance away from Aiku. “Are you heading back with everyone tomorrow?”

“No way,” Aiku says, slithering the rest of the way over the back of the couch to land next to Barou. “Are you kidding? I’m gonna party down here for the next week, minimum.”

“Predictable,” Barou mutters. Looks like their relationship will be over sooner rather than later.

“A bunch of the guys are staying,” Aiku goes on, “the league’s not putting us up forever, but I found us a great spot downtown.”

“Sounds terrible,” Barou says, thinking about living in close quarters with any number of Aiku’s friends. 

“I got an extra big bed for us,” Aiku says hopefully. “If you wanna stay a little longer.”

Barou swallows hard, unprepared for the lump in his throat. He’d… assumed Aiku was planning to invite the entire city into his bed, not that he’d planned for Barou himself. He’s even tempted to agree. As annoying as the rest of the guys can be, a room to himself with Aiku sounds really fucking good. 

It would also make it far less likely that Aiku will give in to the part of him that craves casual sex, for whatever unfathomable reason. 

“I promised my family I’d visit as soon as I could,” Barou says, reluctance making the words stick in his throat. He can’t stay, and Aiku will… do whatever he does. 

“Would they mind if it was a bit later?”

“I would mind if it was later,” Barou admits. “My father’s out of town right now. It’s annoying when he’s there.”

Aiku gives him a searching look, but nods. “I’ll see you when I’m back in Japan, then.”

“Yes.”

“Hey, hey, don’t look so down. It’s just a week!” Aiku prods him gently. 

Barou gives him a long look, unrepentantly meeting his eyes. “A week of partying in Buenos Aires with a bunch of single guys. I’m not that naive, Aiku, and you shouldn’t be either.”

Aiku’s smile vanishes. “You’re right. I—I’m not planning on fucking this up,” he gestures between them.

Barou’s temper rises. Aiku’s plans mean jack shit in this situation, but also this is one thing he can’t control. He’ll control how he deals with the outcome. 

“I can’t just never go out,” Aiku says tightly, looking away. “We won the World Cup, we’re on the other side of the globe in this—this fucking gorgeous city. I need,”

“I know,” Barou interrupts him shortly, anger making his words too biting. He’s angry more at the situation than at Aiku, but mostly at Isagi for stealing the spotlight so thoroughly. He takes a deep breath. “I know, Aiku. Enjoy yourself. When you’re back in Japan, you can come meet my family.”

If he doesn’t betray Barou, that is. Barou doesn’t need to say it, Aiku’s wide eyes tell him he understands. 

“Thanks, Shou-chan,” Aiku says softly. “You’re a good boyfriend, did you know that?”

The unexpected praise makes Barou flush in shock, and Aiku takes advantage of the pause to wrap an arm around Barou’s shoulders and press a kiss to his temple. “You’re still here tonight, though,” Aiku murmurs. “So let’s enjoy it.”

 

Barou turns off airplane mode when the plane lands in Houston and immediately gets fifty messages from Aiku. He scans them quickly—a lot of blurry photos, some selfies, a few explicit photos that he saves to his camera roll, and then a lot of miscellaneous texts he can safely ignore for now. Their layover is a long one, so he heads to one of the huge-but-disappointing hotels alongside his teammates. 

Aiku calls him around midnight, although after a 10-hour flight, time has little meaning anymore. Barou is tired enough to consider denying the call. It’s a video call, though, and the lure of seeing Aiku’s face has him answering. 

At first all he sees is a dark blur of light and sound, and after a few seconds, the sound of a door slamming and yellow-green lights flicker on. 

“Okay, can you hear me now?” Aiku says. The screen flips around, going from showing what was probably a bathroom wall to Aiku’s face. He looks like he’s been out a while, red-faced and tipsy, hair sticking to his sweaty face. “I went into a bathroom. Hey, baby!”

Barou feels even more tired, which is an accomplishment. 

“It’s midnight here,” Barou tells him sternly. “Why are you calling?”

“To see your beautiful face,” Aiku drawls. The camera wavers a bit as he staggers backwards, landing against a door or wall or something. It shows Aiku’s neck and chest, too, how he’s wearing one of those slutty shirts that bares most of his chest, how there’s dark splotches on the side of his neck. 

“What’s on your neck,” Barou says flatly. Aiku pats the side of his neck, makes a face, then holds his fingers up in front of his face. 

“Oh. Ugh. Lipstick, I think?” He turns his hand around, showing smudged fingertips to the camera.  “Oh my god, Shou-chan, it wasn’t anything bad, I swear. Some chicks got a little friendly on the dance floor, you know, one of ‘em just went for it before I could stop her.”

One of them? 

“Why did you call me,” Barou repeats, more coldly. Is this some kind of fucked up confession?

“I missed you,” Aiku pouts, “are you mad at me?”

“What do you think,” Barou hisses. “I’m gone for ten hours and you’ve already got women sucking on your neck? Is that really all you did?”

“Yes,” Aiku groans, slouching back against the door and running his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Shouei, come on, I’m calling you now aren’t I?”

“And what about after we hang up?” Barou snaps. “When I’m on a plane for another fifteen hours? Are you gonna stop the next person who feels you up? How far are you gonna let it go before you get around to stopping it?”

Aiku sighs shortly. “Alright, I admit it. I was tempted. So I called you, ‘cause liked I said, I don’t wanna fuck this up. Kinda feels like you’re just waiting for me to fail, Shou-chan.” 

There’s a sarcastic lilt to his voice by the end that Barou instinctively detests. Abruptly, he’s certain he can’t endure another moment of this conversation. 

“Aren’t you tired of this,” Barou says hollowly. 

“What? Tired of what?” Aiku’s eyes go wide momentarily, but Barou can’t bring himself to care.

“Just go do whatever—or whoever—the fuck you want, see if I care.” He’s so fucking tired he can’t think straight. 

Aiku scoffs. “Are you serious? You’re just gonna tell me to go and cheat on you? Fine. I guess I’ll—”

Barou hangs up on him and stands frozen in place for a long, long moment. Eventually he works on calming his breathing enough to manage a coherent thought. 

He takes an icy shower and decides his hands are shaking slightly from exhaustion and cold. He feels more clear-headed when he gets out of the shower, goes through his whole nighttime routine, then forces himself to sit on the edge of the massive western mattress and recall everything he’d said. That Aiku had said. 

Aiku had reached out for support, Barou realizes with a jolt, and Barou had practically spat in his face. Cursing under his breath, Barou grabs his phone and calls Aiku back. 

The call drops. 

His texts don’t go through either. 

Barou’s cursing isn’t under his breath anymore. He tries to remember who was with Aiku, if anyone at all. The prospect of calling someone just to beg them to let him talk to his wayward boyfriend is beyond humiliating, but if that’s what it takes to reach Aiku, then Barou will fucking humiliate himself. It’s his own fault, and an earned punishment. He’s increasingly certain that even through the shitty connection and grainy video, Aiku’s wide eyes were full of hurt. 

Notes:

i promise i wont take so long to update with the next chapter so i dont leave you all hanging on a sad note <3

thank you all for your support so far, it means the world. i shan’t apologize for taking so long to update because i’ve had at least 3 stereotypical ao3 life tragedies happen in the last 2 months and like. yeah lol

but sharing aibr will always make me happy <33

Chapter 11: hot and mean and gay

Notes:

hang in there!!

He tries calling Otoya first, and unsurprisingly he doesn’t pick up. Barou leaves a message, and texts as well, determined to be thorough no matter how much it grates against his pride. Sendou doesn’t answer, either, even though it rings a few times. Maybe Aiku told him what a hopeless jerk Barou is. He tries several other people without any luck, until finally, finally, Aryu picks up. 

“Barou? It’s the middle of the night,” Aryu warbles. “You’re ruining my beauty sleep.”

“Thank god,” Barou says in a rush. 

“Excuse moi?”

”No, not about that,” Barou says quickly, trying and failing to not yell. “Listen, you’re still in Argentina, right? I need to talk to Aiku. He’s not picking up. Do you know where he is?”

“You just me woke up,” Aryu complains, tucking a strand of hair back into his silk bonnet. “This is not styl, Barou-kun. I don’t know where he is, currently.”

“Please,” Barou rasps. 

“I’ll go check his room,” Aryu sighs. “One moment.”

Barou paces around the hotel room as he listens to Aryu plod around their accommodations. 

“Not in his room,” Aryu says, sounding displeased. “I can tell him to call you when he’s back?”

“Do that,” Barou says tightly. “Thanks, Aryu—”

“Ah, I believe I hear the front door. Allow me to take a look,” Aryu interrupts, and Barou shuts up. He can hear some of the commotion through the receiver, a raucous mix of male and female voices, the sound of the door slamming shut. Barou’s stomach sinks. 

“Aiku!” Aryu calls. “Aiku, wait up.” 

A brief pause. 

Aryu says, “Barou-kun’s on the phone for you. Ignoring him wouldn’t be very styl, Aiku.”

“Aiku said he’ll call you back in a minute,” Aryu says after another agonizing pause. 

Barou shuts his eyes in relief, though his pulse is still racing. “Thank fucking god.”

“Maybe it’s not my place… he did arrive with a very beautiful woman,” Aryu adds. “I’m going to go find my earplugs and get some sleep, if that’s all you need?”

“That’s all,” Barou whispers, unmoving as Aryu hangs up. The next few minutes of waiting are agony. Then, Aiku calls. Another video call. Barou steels himself and answers. 

The video loads agonizingly slowly, but then Aiku’s face reappears. He’s alone, at least, sitting in a large bed that he’d apparently hoped to share with Barou, and now had apparently planned share with someone else. He looks distinctly unhappy, resentment in the tense line of his mouth. 

“Do we have anything to talk about?” Barou says, barely able to get the words out past the lump in his throat.

“You called me,” Aiku points out flatly. “So, up to you.”

“Did you…” Barou can’t say it. He’s a coward, a coward, a fucking coward. “Aryu said you came in with a woman.”

“She was very pretty,” Aiku replies, looking away from the camera. His eyes look dull in the badly-lit room. Aiku adds, “And I didn’t even kiss her. But… I brought her here to do more than that. I was gonna do it.”

Maybe Barou should be pissed, but the rush of relief is too strong. Aiku didn’t kiss her, and maybe Barou wasn’t too late.

“That’s fine,” Barou says shortly. 

Aiku’s gaze snaps back to the camera. “How is that fine?”

“It’s my fault,” Barou tells him, slowly and clearly. “It’s my fucking fault, I shouldn’t have hung up on you like that, or said any of that crap, Aiku, I—”

”Slow down,” Aiku says. “Shit’s lagging all over the place.”

Barou takes a deep breath. “You didn’t—didn’t go too far. With her. I reached you in time.”

“Shouei, I was going to cheat on you,” Aiku insists, “I brought her here, I… fuck, this is so messed up. I’m a real piece of shit, huh?”

“I only care that you didn’t do it,” Barou says gruffly. “I wasn’t listening to you earlier, when you called. I was fucking exhausted, but that’s not an excuse. I should have reassured you. Instead I… cut you loose.”

He can’t read Aiku’s expression, but confusion is taking over the bitter expression that had looked so wrong on his face. “You… why did you call?”

“I don’t want you to fuck this up either,” Barou says, voice breaking only a little. He clears his throat. “I’m going to come back to Buenos Aires. I shouldn’t have left.”

“Wait, your family—”

”They’ll be happy if I take some time off, for once,” Barou sighs. “A few days is fine. You were right. I could’ve stayed at least a few more days. I should’ve.”

Aiku is silent for a long moment. Barou starts to doubt. 

“Do you not want me to fly back?” Barou asks stiffly. He already has the tickets pulled up on his tablet. 

“I’m very, very drunk right now,” Aiku replies, the line of his mouth wobbly. “I’m very, pretty confused. So. Just to confirm. You’re not dumping me? That’s why you called, right? To dump me face-to-face?”

Barou hates how miserable that sounds. He says, “I—no. I called to apologize.”

“You… mean that,” Aiku says slowly. “Fuck me. I don’t deserve all that.”

“And to stop you before you do something I would have to dump you for,” Barou adds.

The phone wavers, then Aiku rubs over his face with a hand. “Fuck, I gotta tell Josephina nothing’s happening tonight.” Barou feels like murdering ‘Josephina,’ but keeps his mouth shut as Aiku’s still talking, “Oh man, is Otoya gonna bag both of them? Life is so unfair.”

Barou’s lip curls. “You sure you want me to fly back? You can still have some disgusting foursome with that loser.”

Aiku’s expression softens as he looks into the camera. “I told you you got me all fucked up, Shou-chan. At this point, even watching you brush your teeth is more fun than a foursome. I miss you already, did you know that? God, my head hurts. Please come back.”

Barou shakes his head, but that constricting feeling in his chest easing. “Can you hold yourself together for another 12 hours? Then I’ll be there.”

“Hundred percent,” Aiku nods, “I know ‘cause I’m gonna be asleep that whole time. Are you gonna survive being awake that long?”

Barou laughs unpleasantly. “No. I’m gonna take it out on you when I’m back. Now I gotta go get back on a plane—get some sleep, idiot.”

“I think I wanted something to stop me,” Aiku says quietly, after a pause. “I coulda kissed her back in the club. Hell, I could’ve fucked her back there, too… but I kept putting it off.”

“You want a medal?” Barou asks, but without hostility. He’s too tired for that. With the immediate crisis postponed, he just feels drained. Aiku’s mouth quirks into the first smile he’s made during this call. 

“I’m glad you called me back, Shou-chan. Text me your flight info, okay?”

“Will do.”

Aiku blows him a kiss on screen, then hangs up.

 

Barou’s return to Buenos Aires is a blur, mostly because he hasn’t had his sleep schedule this disrupted since his father’s stroke years earlier, but also because of emotional turmoil. He trusts Aiku, or at least trusts him to be honest about his untrustworthy behavior, but there’s a large part of him that doubts his choice. Maybe he should’ve just cut him loose. Maybe he should’ve blamed Aiku more, god knows many people would. Barou’s not especially forgiving, he just… he’s the one who put a fish in water and asked it not to swim. 

For Barou, who prefers to think only about soccer, fitness, sex, and cleaning (not always in that order), this amount of emotional work is almost as exhausting as remaining awake. 

By the time he reaches the address Aiku provided, he feels dead on his feet. He’s in his most comfortable clothes, soft sweats and a large sweater, with the hood bunched up around his neck. His hair is pulled back in a messy bun, to spare Barou the horror of feeling greasy hair against his skin. Sunglasses protect him from the hot afternoon sun, though he’s aware the whole arrangement makes him look like some disgraced starlet spotted after a bender. 

Aiku opens the door for him, looking somewhat haggard but miles better than last night. Only now does Barou realize how deeply disturbing it had been to see Aiku look so dull and self-recriminating. 

“You really came,” Aiku says. He sounds wary, or surprised.

Barou’s eye twitches. “I sent you my flight info,” he says pointedly. Obviously he was going to come. “Where’s your shower?”

Aiku hesitates for a moment, eyes searching Barou’s face like he’s waiting for something else, then steps aside to let Barou in. Barou’s just as fucked as Aiku is, because he pauses when he passes him, leans in, and presses a kiss to his mouth. He just can’t stand to leave Aiku looking so anxious and miserable. It feels like it’s against the natural order, and a kiss is the only surefire way he knows to reassure him. 

When he pulls away, Aiku looks affected, wondering, eyes all dewy and shit. Barou sighs through his nose, and turns away. “The shower, Aiku. I’m about to rip all my skin off.”

“R-right, yeah. This way, then.”

After a very thorough shower, Barou feels like passing out. Aiku leads him to his room, which is very nice, and tells him he washed all the bedclothes before Barou arrived. The tightness in Barou’s chest eases further, and when Aiku hesitates by the bed, Barou beckons him over to join his nap. He falls asleep, warm from the golden late afternoon and from Aiku’s body next to his. 

He wakes up in the middle of the night, which is predictable enough. Aiku’s already awake, laying in bed next to him and doing something on his phone. Barou rolls over and sees some kind of card game on screen before Aiku realizes he’s awake and tosses his phone out of the way. 

“Hey there,” Aiku says. 

“I’m hungry,” Barou says. “We’ll talk after food.”

Aiku swallows. “Right.”

After food, Barou showers again and decides he finally feels human enough to carry out a conversation. They stick to Aiku’s room, both for privacy and because the girls from the night before apparently stuck around, are chatting with the other guys in the living room. Barou might be calmer, but his homicidal urges are still only a seconds away from resurfacing.  

Aiku’s room has a gorgeous little bay window with a view of downtown in the near distance. It’s a clear night, though light pollution makes the stars few and far between. Barou settles into one corner of the window seat, and Aiku sits across from him, looking nervous. 

“I… still kinda thought you’d come back to dump me in person,” Aiku says, looking out the window. “But you’re taking your sweet time, if that’s the case.”

Barou scoffs. “You’d know if I was dumping you.”

Aiku looks at him sidelong, his tone somber. “I guess I don’t understand why you’re not. You’re so—you’re you. You don’t put up with bullshit.”

Barou lets his head fall back against the glass, looking at Aiku from under heady lids. He’s so handsome, even when he looks this sad. The soft lighting does nothing to soften his sharp jawline and his thick lashes seem to gather darkness from the night. No wonder he gets away with so much; even Barou isn’t immune.

“I don’t,” Barou agrees slowly, “but I’m not a hypocrite. I told you that I don’t expect you to change yourself, and I’m sure as hell not going to change who I am—I respect people who live in accordance with who they are.”

“Makes sense,” Aiku says, looking more thoughtful and less despairing. 

“But I still need you to be mine, only mine,” Barou says roughly, “but that’s because of who I am. I know it doesn’t come naturally to you. And I know I’m refusing to change, but asking you to. I hate that it makes me a hypocrite after all, but—it’s just how it is.”

“Yeah. Just a little incompatible,” Aiku says with a faint smile. “I guess I’m greedy to want you anyway.”

“Then we both are,” Barou says plainly. “I agreed to this relationship understanding who you are. I… when you called, I undermined your effort to make it work. I’m the one demanding that you change your behavior, so I should take responsibility for supporting you. That’s how I see it. It’s simple.”

Aiku laughs softly, shakes his head. “You’re really something else, Shouei. Always surprising me.”

“I knew you’d find it impossible to resist all this,” Barou gestures at the city. “I didn’t want to watch you choose that life over me. And I also wanted to see my family. I’ll be going back to Japan in four days, by the way.”

“I’m not choosing nightlife over you,” Aiku says, tilting his head. “I’m trying to have both, which didn’t really work out, this time. I mean, I want this to work more than I want to go out. I just… don’t always manage to act on that in the moment.”

“I know,” Barou says. 

“Are we good, then?” Aiku says slowly. 

Barou lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. You can still go out while I’m here.”

“And miss my precious time with you?” Aiku says with a contrived pout. As annoying as it is, it’s also familiar and his antics calm Barou’s residual stress. Barou shrugs at him, unbothered. He’s going to be spending his time in every cafe within walking distance, and he’s looking forward to it. Dulce de leche calls to him.

Aiku says, “you could come out with me.”

Barou’s eyes snap to his. “Are you insane?”

“Nope.” Aiku’s grin builds slowly but surely. “We had fun on my birthday, Shou-chan.”

Barou looks at him warily, remembering how strange it had felt to drink, how good it had felt to have Aiku all over him in front of everyone. “Hmph.” 

“We wouldn’t go to one of the crazier clubs,” Aiku nods, “maybe one of the cute rooftop ones, lots of fresh air. We can find a nice dark corner and feel each other up.”

Aiku follows that up by trailing a finger over Barou’s thigh. It feels like it’s been forever since he felt Aiku’s touch, and the upsetting prospect of losing it forever is still fresh in Barou’s memory. 

“My sleep schedule is already ruined,” Barou says slowly. “One time. I’ll go once.”

Aiku gets that jackpot-winning smile again, and he practically leaps into Barou’s lap. “Really, Shou-chan? We’re going to have the best time. God, you’re gonna be so fucking hot, can I pick your clothes? Can—”

Barou shuts him up by clapping a hand over his mouth, waits a moment, then pulls his hand away and kisses him properly. “I’ll change my mind if you keep being annoying about it,” he threatens. 

 

The club isn’t terrible. Aiku was right; open air makes it more tolerable. It’s an indulgence Barou wouldn’t normally care for, but they did just win the World Cup. They’re all on break for several weeks. If he’s ever going to participate in this kind of thing, it’ll be now. Barou isn’t incurious about life, even night life. At the very least, he’ll know exactly what he’s avoiding the next time Aiku begs him to go out. 

He’d be avoiding the pounding music, sticky floors, and sweaty bodies… but he likes the sangria Aiku brings him—one drink only, Barou’s self-imposed and very strict limit—and the night sky is beautiful. He doesn’t mind the looks that Aiku attracts, or even how he flirts his way through the crowd and chats up the bartender; Aiku is a social firefly that’s just as much in his element here as he is on the pitch. It’s fucked up, being in love. How has Barou gotten to the point where merely watching Aiku be himself feels like a worthy pastime?

Then there’s the payoff, when Aiku has charmed everyone who sees him and still meanders back over to Barou’s spot on the railing, when he presses himself up against Barou’s back, when he begs for kisses with sweet-smelling breath, and when he acts like Barou’s attention is worth a thousand times more more than the eyes of everyone else in the building. Which it is, of course. But it’s good that Aiku knows it, and everyone else knows it too. 

What surprises him more than anything is that Aiku is jealous in a way that Barou fundamentally isn’t. Barou, dressed in one of Aiku’s tight shirts and too-short shorts and even some of his chains, knows he looks fucking good. He looks hot and gay and mean. He is hot and gay and mean, and that causes him to be approached constantly. 

Barou likes the attention, and he likes shutting people down with unflinching harshness. Anyone who approaches him expecting a gentle letdown is in dire need of a wake up call, anyway, but he only gets that far half the time; Aiku swiftly shows up thanks to some sort of second-sense for when Barou’s getting hit on. 

He’ll run an arm up Barou’s chest, possessively getting between him and whoever the hell was stupid enough to talk to Barou in the first place, and explain that Barou is taken with enough friendly hostility to make the blood drain from their faces. 

Fuck, but Barou does love it when Aiku shows his mean streak. Really gets him going. Not enough to dance, even though Aiku begs with admirable patheticness.  But… he will let Aiku dance against him—an unfitting word for what is essentially dry humping (an activity Barou greatly prefers to dancing)—and he’ll run his hands over Aiku’s body, his ass, his waist, his chest, and when Aiku turns around to rub his ass against Barou’s half chub, Barou runs his hands possessively over Aiku’s neck, too. A collar for his dog. He leans over Aiku’s shoulder and sucks bruises of possession into his neck, and decides he kind of likes this, after all. 

The fact that Aiku sucks him off in the bathroom before and after doesn’t have an insignificant impact on his enjoyment of the night, either. Against his better judgment, he agrees to go out again. And… again. He really likes having Aiku all over him in front of everyone. But even with that, Barou’s still tired of it after three nights out. Aiku remains as energetic as ever, a true extrovert, happy as a puppy as he practically rolls around Barou’s metaphorical ankles. 

“I’m surprised you came out with us,” Otoya says, perching on the back of the couch. Barou is fighting with the wi-fi, trying to video chat his family before they go to sleep. 

“Don’t talk to me,” Barou replies. Last night he’d let Aiku drag him along with everyone, whose company made it unbelievably worse (more people tried to talk to him) but also better (his teammates could properly appreciate how Aiku belongs to him). 

“Talk-no-jutsu,” Otoya chirps. “You’re more fun than I thought.”

“I’m not.”

“You should come out with us again!” Otoya nods. “You’re like a—a shark. And I’m a pilot fish. You break hearts, and I pick them right back up off the floor. You wouldn’t believe how many numbers I got. Nin-nin.”

“You sound ridiculous,” Barou says, “also, what the fuck are you talking about.”

“Aw, Barou-chan, don’t be like that.”

Barou’s eyebrows twitch, and his temper reaches critical mass. “Aiku!” He yells. 

“Yeah baby?” Aiku shouts from the kitchen.

“Inside voices are styl,” Arya calls from the veranda.

“Your ninja-freak is harassing me,” Barou yells towards the kitchen. Otoya gives him a horrified look. 

“Wait, no—” his voice cuts out when Aiku appears improbably fast, grabbing the back of his shirt like he’s scuffing a disobedient puppy. 

“Ei-chan, leave our precious king alone,” Aiku scolds, holding him up effortlessly with one arm. Barou considers postponing calling his family to drag Aiku into the bedroom and fuck him properly.  

“Gomen-no-jutsu,” Otoya warbles, then squirms athletically out of Aiku’s hold and disappears from sight.

“Heh,” Barou says.

“You coulda handled him,” Aiku tells him, draping himself over the back of the couch. “Going on a little power trip, king? Do you enjoy watching me rough up the peasantry?”

“Mmm.” Barou leans over, grabs his chin, and kisses his cheek. “I like when you’re rough. Just my big, bad guard dog, aren’t you?” 

He scratches under Aiku’s chin like he’s petting a dog, fingertips running through his rough stubble as Aiku’s eyes narrow in pleasure. “Woof,” Aiku says happily, then opens one eye. “You calling your family?”

Barou nods, releasing him. “I’m heading out tomorrow. Trying to get ahold of them, my mom likes talking face-to-face and I need to plan logistics.”

Aiku hums, looking thoughtfully over Barou’s shoulder. “You still want me to meet your family?”

Barou fails to hide his surprise. “You—yes, I do. When you’re back in Japan, we can coordinate. You’ll have to come to Akita, though.”

Aiku gives him a long look, miss-matched eyes full of affection. “What if I come back with you? There’s a few seats left on your flight.”

Now Barou is really surprised. “You were planning on staying the rest of the week. And once I’m gone…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, but he knows his presence changes Aiku’s behavior. Aiku probably wants to let loose in a way he won’t around Barou.

“I want to be with you,” Aiku says, his tone gentle. “You came back here for me. Let me come home with you. Besides, a couple nights out with you are way better than a week of partying with strangers. You’re so unbelievably sexy, Shou-chan.”

Barou rolls his eyes, pushing Aiku’s face away. He’s too ridiculous. Barou’s too happy about it. 

“I’ll get you a spot by me,” Barou says.

“There’s no way there’s one left,” Aiku says, muffled by Barou’s hand on his face. 

Barou laughs sharply. “I booked the seat next to mine so I wouldn’t have to sit next to anyone. I’ll just transfer it to your name. Congratulations, you’re flying first class.”

 

---

 

Aiku brings them to his folks’ place again so they can get a good night’s sleep before going to Tokyo. It also gives them a night of privacy, and Aiku a chance to sleep with his head on Barou’s plush chest. God, he’s so lucky. 

In the morning, Aiku is still in his preferred position (face down in cleavage), though now Barou’s fingers are running through his hair. 

“You’re awake?” Aiku asks. 

“Mhm.”

“No morning workout?” Aiku teases, then regrets it in case it prompts Barou to get up. Thankfully, Barou just scoffs, the intake of breath making his chest rise and fall. So soft, warm, perfect. Fuck Buenos Aires, Aiku’s happy as long as he can play with Barou’s rack. 

“Rest is more important after so much travel,” Barou says. “Although we should probably get up soon.”

Aiku turns to lightly bite Barou’s cute brown nipple, and gets smacked in the back of his head. 

“Quit that,” Barou scolds. Aiku reluctantly raises his head to look at his boyfriend—he looks beautiful in the late morning light, hair glossy and soft where it’s gathered around his shoulders, cutting red eyes warmer than the patches of sun scattered over the blanket. 

“You sure? The train to Akita only takes three hours. We could have some fun first.” 

Barou opens his mouth with his about-to-derisively-scoff expression, then shuts it. After a moment’s consideration, he says, “We won’t have this much privacy at my family’s place. We should enjoy it now.”

Aiku flashes him a grin, and goes right back to sucking on his tit, freeing his hand from the sheets to come up and squeeze Barou’s other breast. Barou hisses from the attention, back arching off the bed effortlessly, even though half of Aiku’s bulk lies heavily on him. 

So strong, so gorgeous. Aiku’s done drugs that feel less addicting than Barou’s body. 

“Ah, Aiku,” Barou groans. This close to his chest, his voice sounds even deeper and sends pleasant chills down Aiku’s back. It never gets old, touching Barou like this. He knows he’s the first person in the world to see Barou so wanton, to hear his unrestrained pleasure. Losing that, losing him, losing his right to be the only one this close to Barou—Aiku has never been so afraid to lose something before. 

“Oi,” Barou says, grabbing at Aiku’s hair, “what’s with you?”

Aiku lets Barou wrench his head up. “Thinking about stuff.”

Barou looks derisive. “Thinking while you’re mauling my chest? Something’s definitely wrong with you.”

Aiku sighs, petting over Barou’s clavicle with his thumb. “I know I almost lost you,” Aiku admits. “It freaks me out.” 

“You’re still thinking about that.” Barou sounds unimpressed. 

“Are you grumpy because I stopped sucking your tits?” Aiku guesses. Barou’s mouth twitches, his frown deepening—but that’s his version of a smile, Aiku’s convinced. It’s what his face does when he’s too amused to bury it behind his granite-slab personality. 

“And if I am?” Barou says with a lopsided scowl. Then he cups Aiku’s face, effectively stopping Aiku’s heart for a second. Barou rarely does romance, but when he does it’s downright lethal. 

“You didn’t lose me,” Barou says, point-blank like he always is, a winning round of Russian roulette straight to the heart. 

“Right,” Aiku says hoarsely. 

“Don’t forget that I flew ten extra hours just to keep you,” Barou says, brushing Aiku’s bangs away from his eyes. “‘That’s how ‘freaked out’ I was about losing you.”

Aiku still can’t believe Barou did that, or that Barou forgave him, or that he’s here in bed with Barou and somehow failed to sabotage everything. Well, not somehow. Barou had very deliberately swept in and stopped Aiku’s habitual sabotaging right in its tracks, and thank god for that. The devastation he’d felt after that first call, when he’d believed Barou was done with him, had rattled him deeply. It didn’t matter that he’d been having an amazing night out, or that there was a gorgeous woman feeling him up—knowing he’d lost Barou made everything else feel worthless.

“You’re scared of losing me?” Aiku asks, even though he knows Barou cares. He just needs to hear it sometimes, too.

Barou’s nose scrunches up how it does when he’s about to admit something he’d rather not. “I wouldn’t say scared, but—yeah. I do want this to work.”

“Ah,” Aiku smiles, touched that Barou went so far as to spell it out for him. He really is a lucky guy, huh? “I feel a little better knowing you feel the same way,” Aiku admits aloud.

“Hey, I just said I wasn’t scared of shit,” Barou protests, but Aiku slips his grip and expertly lands right back on his tits. “Oh,” Barou sighs, “oh, that’s good.”

Aiku, who has returned to worshiping Barou’s nipples, finds himself unable to reply. He sees Barou take his own cock in hand out of the corner of his eye, and feels the familiar, albeit faint, irritation that Barou gets himself off whenever he wants, yet always pouts if Aiku dares touch himself when they’re together.

Granted, that also means Barou always gets Aiku off himself, which Aiku fucking loves. He’s not complaining, but he is horny. 

“I’m close,” Barou warns. His back arches off the bed, and Aiku lovingly continues to grope Barou’s chest. 

Barou moans, bucks, grasps Aiku’s hair and twists around in pleasure before snapping out, “I’m gonna cum.”

That’s an order Aiku recognizes instantly. He pops off Barou’s chest and takes the swollen head of his cock into his mouth instead.

“All the way down,” Barou gasps, urgently pushing at the back of Aiku’s head until Aiku fully takes him down his throat. Barou finishes a half-second later, cock throbbing hard as he spills straight to Aiku’s stomach—and, notably, not on himself or the sheets.

Aiku shuts his eyes in pleasure, relaxing his throat with the ease of practice, laying easy over Barou’s tense stomach as he works through his orgasm. 

As it peters out, Barou pets through Aiku’s hair. He often does this, showing all the affection he normally hides, a king showing his royal favor without restraint. Aiku’s eyes flutter shut in bliss, the gentle pleasure a heady contrast to the way his dick feels like it’s about to drill through the mattress. 

Barou finally tugs him off his cock when he’s completely finished, and gives Aiku a heavy-lidded look of approval. God, Aiku’s so in love with him.

“You never think it’s unfair that you always jack yourself off, but you never let me?” Aiku asks lazily.

Barou raises an eyebrow. “Should a servant expect the same treatment as a king?”

“Barou-chan,” Aiku gasps with mock scandal, delighted that Barou’s saying anything approaching a joke.

Barou blows air through his nose in a silent laugh, even if he remains otherwise stoic. “So, what gives? You got a problem with how I do things?”

Aiku considers it briefly. “Not really, no, but it’s frustrating sometimes.”

“I can stop—”

“In a hot way,” Aiku interrupts quickly. “Maybe we should take it further.”

Now both of Barou’s eyebrows rise. “Oh?”

“Edging, denial,” Aiku trails off. “I haven’t cum since Buenos Aires. Since you refuse to have sex in airports for some reason.”

“They’re disgusting! I can’t believe anyone does that,” Barou says, shuddering. Aiku grins at him. 

“And that means my balls are crazy blue right now,” Aiku says reproachfully. “Where’s your sympathy for your poor, suffering boyfriend?”

“It’s completely insignificant compared to my personal standards of hygiene,” Barou grumbles, very cutely in Aiku’s opinion. 

Overcome, Aiku crawls up Barou’s chest to steal a kiss, then remembers said standards of hygiene and stops in his tracks—any post-fellatio kissing happens strictly on Barou’s terms. Then Barou takes hold of Aiku’s jaw, tugs him closer, and presses a kiss to Aiku’s brow instead of his mouth. Aiku’s heart pounds harder than a full taiko drum ensemble.

“So,” Barou says, drawing back, “edging, huh?”

Aiku nods silently, still basking in the afterglow of being kissed by Barou.

“I’m surprised you have the self-control for it,” Barou says with a soft scoff. Aiku grinds his cock against the mattress and moans softly. Sue him, he still gets off on Barou’s critical nature and the man fucking knows it. 

“It’s less about self-control, and more about how good it feels to want something so bad I can’t think straight,” Aiku explains, eyes half-shut as he enjoys the friction on his dick. “Besides, I don’t need self-control.”

“Uh-huh.” Barou looks skeptical, so Aiku grins at him. 

“That’s what I have you for.”

Barou rolls his eyes, but doesn’t turn him down. “Fine. How do you want it?”

“I haven’t really thought it through, but—”

“How surprising.”

“—you could edge me a few times, and just not get me off before we head out this afternoon.”

Barou looks at him for a long moment, eyes dark and sharp under his lashes. “Then the next time you finish will be with me. No going off and,” he sneers, “playing with yourself.”

“Ooh, sexy,” Aiku purrs. “You got yourself a deal, handsome.”

“Ugh. You know it might be a while, right? I’m not gonna do risky shit around my family.”

Aiku thinks of the upcoming week he’ll be spending at the Barou household, and shivers. He already knows he’s going to regret it, but that just makes him want it more. So many unknowns—how long until he can get off with Barou, how many times he’ll be edged, so badly he’ll end up craving it, what’ll happen to him if he fails—it’s enough of a risk to make it irresistible. 

“Of course not,” Aiku says, already breathing a little heavy. “So of course I’m in.”

“Your funeral,” Barou says, sounding cynical even if there’s nothing cynical in the way he possessively reaches for Aiku’s cock. 

 

Later, when Aiku is trying to get his hard-on soft enough to fit into his pants without causing public scandal, the whole idea seems a little less compelling. 

If he’s lucky, Barou won’t wait too long before having mercy on him. If he’s even luckier, Aiku’s boner will be long gone by the time he meets Mama Barou this evening.  

Notes:

i was so worried aiku wouldn't be likeable through all this but hopefully he's still endearing... i love him so much...

thank u all for reading so far, your comments are always so wonderful <33 can you believe the next chapter is the last one? and then an epilogue hehe