Chapter Text
Hitoshi couldn’t stop looking in the mirror. That wasn’t really his style normally; he didn’t really care what he looked like, and obviously Denki found something about him appealing. So he knew it shouldn’t matter, but he couldn’t stop touching his hair, and lamenting the perpetually dark circles under his eyes and double checking the collar of his shirt.
That was maybe the strangest part. He’d tried to talk himself into leaving his scarf behind, but he still wore a shirt with a high collar, and, perhaps most embarrassing of all, he’d dabbed a tiny spot of a thick concealer over the only part of his scar that wasn’t hidden by his clothes.
He didn’t feel like himself. Hizashi had insisted they needed to go shopping and he’d picked some relentlessly trendy outfit that Hitoshi hadn’t hated in the store, but it felt wrong now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn something that wasn’t a pair of very broken in and perpetually dirt-and-greenery-stained jeans, and a second hand long-sleeved t-shirt that was possibly older than he was. The only thing he ever bought new and actually spent more than a few dollars on was his shoes and that was only because he spent most of his time standing and moving around the shop and he’d found quality leather boots were just worth the investment if he didn’t want his back and knees to be sore all the time.
“Quit fidgeting,” Hizashi snapped without lowering his magazine. “You look great.”
“These pants are too tight,” he countered, equally snippy. They were at best impractical and at worst uncomfortable.
“No, they’re not,” Shouta said. He added quietly enough to make Hitoshi blush, “They look good.”
Hitoshi frowned and stopped adjusting his waistband.
Right on cue, Denki opened the door and swept into the shop, a wide, eager smile on his face. Hitoshi’s jitters managed to get simultaneously better and worse. He didn’t want to fidget with his collar or his waistband any more, but the way his heart was racing.
Denki smelled good. It was soothing.
And that was concerning and confusing and Hitoshi didn’t have his scarf to duck into so he wouldn’t have to think about it.
“Hi, Mister Aizawa!” Denki called, eyes landing on the counter. He was standing between Hitoshi and the counter and Hitoshi stared at the soft, delicate curve of his neck. “Mister Yamada!”
“Hey, kid,” Shouta said, giving Denki a once over that was somehow incredibly intimidating for all it was lazy and nonchalant. Denki ran his hand over the back of his neck, and Hitoshi saw it go bright red.
“Is—” he began.
“Hi,” Hitoshi said quietly from behind him.
Denki whirled around and seeing him smile was like watching the sun crest the horizon. He lit up the whole room and Hitoshi’s heart squeezed in his chest with a very strange burst of inscrutable emotion.
“Hi,” Denki said very simply, but the way he spoke— he could have been singing Hitoshi a song or composing him a sonnet and it wouldn’t have sounded more heartfelt. “I made this for you.”
Hitoshi blinked and realized Denki was holding out a card in a lavender envelope. He felt his cheeks burning as he accepted it, and was fiercely wishing Shouta and Hizashi weren’t watching when Shouta cleared his throat and casually sauntered from the room.
A split second later he reappeared and dragged Hizashi out by the ear.
“Those guys seem cool,” Denki said when he was done watching them go. There was laughter in his voice. There was always laughter in his voice. “Mister Aizawa is kinda scary though,” he added. “Sorta intimidating for a flower shop owner, you know?”
Hitoshi felt himself smiling. “You don’t have to be worried about him.”
“Are you ready to go?”
Hitoshi tried to smile a little and in reply, Denki turned and opened the door. Hitoshi followed him out onto the patio, and then said, “Oh. Wait, lemme—” and lifted the card.
Denki just smiled and waited expectantly, so Hitoshi opened it. It was small, with a printed image of some sketched flowers on the front. There were no words; it was the kind of blank card one filled with whatever was needed.
Hitoshi flipped it open and felt his heart squeeze again.
The whole inside of it was covered with a hand drawn picture of the flower shop, and with Hitoshi himself bent over watering the peony pot, hair in his eyes and scarf around his neck.
He lifted his eyes to Denki’s face, and had no idea what to say.
“View from our window,” Denki said, shrugging toward his own shop. His cheeks were pink.
Hitoshi wordlessly looked back down at the card. Denki had signed his name at the bottom, and dated it, and also written For Violet in neat, spiky handwriting.
It was lovely. Hitoshi had known that Denki was a talented artist when he saw the flower pot, but this was different somehow. Denki had managed to capture the shop and Hitoshi exactly, and the sketchy lines still had a serene and almost abstract air about them. The details Denki had focused on— the flowers, the scarf around Hitoshi’s neck, the pink neon Open sign— Hitoshi felt his chest clench tighter as he noticed each one.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s just a sketch,” Denki said with a nervous chuckle. When Hitoshi just kept staring at the card, Denki said, “Oh!” and tugged open the door before Hitoshi could stop him. He reached in past the frame and emerged holding Hitoshi’s scarf.
Hitoshi had left it on purpose, had told himself he wasn’t going to wear it, but he could only stand very still when Denki stepped in close and looped it around his neck.
“There,” he said in the quiet space between them. “Don’t want to forget that.”
Hitoshi looked into Denki’s golden eyes, and then down at his card, and then back up at Denki, and when he did, Denki tilted in and kissed him.
It was as simple as that, as easy and as painless. Denki was standing so close, had put Hitoshi’s scarf on for him, and never stepped away, and now he was—
He broke first, when Hitoshi was still too shocked to even really respond. He pushed a lock of hair out of Hitoshi’s face, and then grinned, and he was so full of humor all of a sudden, Hitoshi felt his stomach swoop and had the awful, anxious, juvenile thought that this was all some kind of joke.
“Sorry.” Denki’s voice was quiet, but still confident, still full of laughter. “It was too perfect, I just had to.”
“Perfect?” Hitoshi asked dumbly.
“Yeah, think about it,” Denki enthused. “When we tell people about the first time we kissed, it’ll be in front of your flower shop, with the setting sun on your cheeks, and a pretty sketch I gave you. Perfect right? Like a fairy tale.”
Hitoshi blinked down at the picture, lifted his eyes, and kissed Denki back.
It was quick, too nervous, just a shy, anxious little peck against those soft, shimmering lips. Denki was wearing some kind of clear lip gloss with little gold flecks in it that kept catching the sun. When Hitoshi licked his lips, he tasted sugar and citrus.
Denki’s answering smile, empty of any anxiety, filled with joy, was what told Hitoshi he’d been just a little nervous before. He didn’t say anything, just kept smiling and staring at Hitoshi until Hitoshi gave a small, disbelieving laugh and dropped his eyes.
Denki wrapped the long end of the scarf around Hitoshi’s neck and said, “So what kind of movies do you like?”
🗲🗲🗲
Denki barely tasted his food. He and Hitoshi talked casually about nothing while they walked to the restaurant Denki had picked out. He felt like he was floating. He ordered something completely at random off the menu and couldn't take his eyes off Hitoshi’s mouth while he told the server what he wanted.
As soon as they walked away, Denki said, “You look really nice.”
Hitoshi dropped his eyes instantly and his cheeks got dark. “Uh. Thank you.” After only the briefest hesitation, he added, “I wanted to apologize, uh, in person for how I. How I acted the other day. It was.”
“It’s okay!” Denki said instantly, lifting his hand. And then he blurted, because he wanted to put Hitoshi at ease, wanted him to know Denki knew and didn’t mind, wanted him to know it was okay, “Your alpha was bad to you, weren’t they?”
Hitoshi’s eyes went very wide and Denki realized what he’d done, that he should have waited, of course he should have, and let Hitoshi tell him himself— “Oh, god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” Hitoshi said in a smooth, soft voice that was ostensibly inflectionless, but really did put Denki at ease.
“He wasn’t really. It. It wasn’t.”
Denki didn’t understand, and now he wasn’t sure what he should say next. “I. Didn’t mean to push you. I just. I. Get it— well, I mean, I don’t like, get it get it, but—”
Hitoshi smiled at the table and Denki trailed off.
“I think the work you do is incredible,” Hitoshi said, sipping his water like he hadn’t just given Denki a compliment that made his whole chest and face go hot. “How did you learn to do tattoos like that? I did a little research after Katsuki yelled at me,” he said with a sheepish smirk. “I gather it’s difficult?”
Denki paused, and then got up and sat back down on Hitoshi’s bench.
Hitoshi raised his brows, scooted a little closer to the wall so Denki could fit. Denki tugged the tight leg of his shorts higher on his thigh and positioned himself so Hitoshi could see the inside of his leg.
“You see all the lightning?” Hitoshi frowned and nodded. “They’re scars,” Denki said, running his fingers over the mark. It was the only place on his body where his scars were still visible. He’d tattooed a black outline of a man pulling lighting from the sky, and the lighting was the only bare skin left on his leg.
Hitoshi looked up at Denki with shock in his eyes.
“When my quirk first manifested, I had an accident,” Denki explained.
“What’s your quirk?” Hitoshi asked.
“Shit, I’ve never shown you, have I?” He held out his hand, let sparks dance along his finger tips. “I can create electricity. Lightning. When I was a kid, right after my quirk manifested, like probably the same week, I was playing outside with some neighborhood kids when this storm rolled in. We all went home when it started to rain, but I was kinda fucking around, and I, uh. I got struck by lightning.”
Hitoshi’s brows rose to his hairline and he said, “You what?”
“Yeah, it was this whole thing,” Denki told him, shrugging a little, trying to look natural. “My quirk kinda made me, you know, like, attractive to lightning I guess, and I wasn’t being careful. That’s how I got these scars on my leg,” he said, tapping the spot he’d been showing Hitoshi. “They actually start on this arm, you can feel them under my tattoos.”
He held out his arm, wrist up, and after a beat, Hitoshi laid his hand there. He rubbed a little circle until he found one of the branching scars, and then followed it up Denki’s forearm, to the curve of his elbow. Everywhere he touched, chills erupted along Denki’s skin, so Denki had to fight the pleased little shiver than through his whole body.
“So these go all the way down this arm, down my back, and this leg,” he explained. “I have a few other smaller places where I hurt myself when I was still learning how my quirk worked. Like one time I accidentally set it off while I was swimming and almost drowned.”
He laughed and Hitoshi looked at him in horror.
“Anyway, I really hated my scars, so I practiced on myself, learned to cover them up. Then I realized, you know, there’s the whole group of people who could. Who could really use help covering up some bad memories, so.” He shrugged.
Hitoshi was quiet, sipping his water and staring at the table. He finally said, “You’re very talented. I looked up some of your work and it’s. I can tell it’s impressive.”
“Thanks, Violet!”
Hitoshi was quiet, and the server reappeared with their food. They set the food down in front of both of them, so Denki didn’t bother moving back to his side of the booth. He just twisted in his seat a little so he could see Hitoshi better.
When the server was gone, Hitoshi said very quietly, “I hate my scars too.”
“Do you wanna tell me about it?” Denki asked. “You don’t have to. But you can if you want.”
“It’s a long story,” Hitoshi said, poking at his food.
Denki shrugged. “Movie doesn’t start for another hour.”
Hitoshi chewed on his lip. Denki took a few bites of food, so Hitoshi wouldn’t feel like he was watching him, and almost as soon as he looked away, Hitoshi said softly, “When I was seventeen my family… uh. Found. Found an alpha. For. For me.”
Denki felt a lump form in his throat and he wondered if he was being really, really stupid. He shouldn’t have asked Hitoshi about this. He shouldn’t have asked him to bare his secrets and share his soul on the very first date. They weren’t even an hour into it, for fuck’s sake.
Denki said quietly, because now there was nothing else to say, “You were in an arranged relationship?”
Hitoshi nodded.
It was illegal. Very, very illegal and had been for the past fifty years or so. Denki had tattooed many omegas who wanted to cover dead mate bites and as far as he knew, only one of them had come from that particular situation.
“That’s awful.”
“It really wasn’t,” Hitoshi reassured him, almost a little too quickly. “He wasn’t a, a bad or a cruel man. He wanted me to be happy, I think. At first.”
Denki took a bite of his food, waited for Hitoshi to go on, because what was he supposed to say to that?
“He was a lot older than me, but he was. Mostly nice looking, and he had a soft voice. Well off. Didn’t want me working or going to school or anything. I didn’t. You know, I didn’t mind really.”
Hitoshi is quiet and Denki says, “How’d. How’d it happen?”
Hitoshi shrugged. “There’s still people who handle those sorts of arrangements. People that make a business out of it. He paid my family a lot of money.” Hitoshi’s lips curled in a bitter, amused smirk. “Extra for my quirk. Extra because he thought I was attractive, and I was so young.”
“What’s your quirk?” Denki asked quickly. If Hitoshi wanted to change the subject he could. Denki would listen. He’d asked, and he’d listen, and also he knew it was strange to say but he already knew he didn’t want some passing fling with Hitoshi. He wanted more than that. He wanted a lot more than that. So he was willing to hear whatever Hitoshi was willing to tell him.
But for some reason, this question was what made Hitoshi hesitate the most.
“Uh. It’s.”
“You… don’t have to tell me that either?” Denki said, voice rising in confusion.
Hitoshi smiled. “You’re very sweet.”
“Well, I like you,” Denki said with a shrug. The answering blush on Hitoshi’s cheeks was enough to make Denki smile into his— whatever it was he was eating. He still wasn’t really sure.
“My quirk is. I can. It’s mind control,” he said all in a rush. “I can use it to issue basic commands and, who-whoever, they have to follow.”
Denki blinked at him. “Wait, like what kind of commands?”
Hitoshi shrugged. “Come here, sit down, walk over there, clean the counter—”
“Oh my god, that is so hot.”
Hitoshi actually drew back a little, eyes wide with shock again. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, god, I’m sorry, I just mean. Wow.”
“That’s. Why would that be— it’s just my quirk.”
“You can make people do whatever you want and you don’t see how hot that is?”
Hitoshi’s brows furrowed. “Most people who know about my quirk think it’s scary.”
“Scary? You’re not scary though.”
This was apparently the right thing to say, because Hitoshi’s eyes suddenly glimmered and he looked away, a gentle curl to his lips and his chin tucked against his neck like he wanted to hide behind his scarf. He hadn’t done that yet tonight, which Denki thought was a good sign but he still wasn’t entirely sure.
“I just mean, I guess I could see how it would be scary in the hands of the wrong person, but you’re not like that,” Denki pushed on with a shrug. “So I think it’s just really sexy.”
Hitoshi choked out a little laugh and said, “I. Well, I’m. Glad then, I guess.”
He adjusted his scarf as he spoke, and when he did, Denki was greeted with the sweetest smell he’d ever scented from an actual person before. He knew Hitoshi smelled good, knew something about him made the alpha parts of Denki nearly ravenous for more, but it still surprised him tonight how badly he suddenly wanted to bury his face against Hitoshi’s neck and.
And hold him.
Very tightly, and very quietly so Denki could feel the slow, calm, measured way he’d breathe. Denki would scent calm and Hitoshi would relax and that little furrow between his brows would smooth and the entire daydream hit him so fast and so hard he struggled not to laugh at himself. He’d never been prone to this kind of… soft fantasy. He was, by all accounts, an incorrigible slut whose attentions for one omega usually only lasted as long as it took for them to jump into bed together before they broke apart with a I had a great time and a see you around.
So this.
This date, this quiet, consuming ache in his chest.
It was all very new to him.
“My alpha hoped our children would inherit it,” Hitoshi admitted, and Denki was yanked back to the present, to Hitoshi’s story. Denki knew it had to be worse than all that, knew that it was more than just a marriage gone bad. Denki had never met an omega who responded so viscerally to being scented, and to other omegas being scented, so there had to be more.
“The whole reason he, uh, found a mate the way he did is because he wanted a family. So.”
“And you don’t?” Denki asked as gently as he could.
Hitoshi lifted his head and met Denki’s eyes briefly, then looked back down at his plate. His voice was different when he asked, “What do you want in an omega?”
“I’ve. Never really thought about it,” Denki admitted. “Honestly, I’m not usually the. The date type. But I really like you.”
“What do you mean the date type?”
“Well, I’ve had a lot of flings, I guess. Not really anything serious.”
Hitoshi almost sounded relieved when he said, “So you’re not looking for something serious then?”
For some reason, it made Denki’s whole heart hurt.
“I. I don’t know,” Denki said quietly.
“That’s probably good. I’m not. Really. Uh.”
“You’re not… serious,” Denki said slowly.
“Well, it’s just that… it turns out I can’t, actually. Have. Have a family.”
Denki had not expected him to say that. “You. Oh. Oh.”
“Yeah,” Hitoshi said, voice low and level. He didn’t meet Denki’s eye, though. He just moved his fork around over his plate like he’d take a bite but never actually did. “You know, most alphas don’t want an omega who can’t—”
“Well, I don’t care,” Denki said sharply.
Hitoshi chewed his lip.
“No, I really don’t. I don’t even know if that’s what I want, but if I did and my, my person couldn’t, well there’s all sorts of stuff— Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Hitoshi said with a tiny smile. “I didn’t mean to. We keep talking about serious things.”
“I don’t mind that. I like to know about you. But I want you to have fun, not get all. All...sad. I want you to want to go out with me again,” Denki added with his best approximation of a charming smile.
“I’m alright,” Hitoshi said. “I just. So, back to point, I guess. I didn’t actually know, until— You know, nothing kept happening.”
“Right, that makes sense.”
“So,” Hitoshi said, voice getting a little louder and a little firmer. “After he found out, he didn’t want much else to do with me. And since then, I’ve. I’ve only been on a few dates, but the alphas in question, they all got sort of… freaked out if I mentioned it, and then it felt wrong not to, and I just. Haven’t been on any dates in a while I guess. I don’t really know how to do this.”
“I think you’re doing okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! And you know what? If you tell me this stuff now, you won’t have to worry about telling me later, and you'll know I really, really mean it when I say I want to see you again.”
“Can’t we talk about you? We should talk about you now,” Hitoshi pressed with a little laugh.
“Mm, in a minute. You still haven’t told me how you left your shitty ex-alpha. That’s the good part of the story right? I wanna hear.”
“That’s how I met Sensei, actually,” Hitoshi said, looking up and finally meeting Denki’s eye head on. Chin up.
God, he was so fucking beautiful.
“Uh. You. What was that?”
“That’s how I met Sensei,” Hitoshi repeated. “You remember how you said you thought he was intimidating?”
“Yeah, he totally is.”
“That’s because he’s not just a flower shop owner. That pays his bills, but he volunteers for an organization that helps people…” Hitoshi trailed off and then said a little more firmly, “People like me get out of bad. Bad situations.”
“He helped you?”
Hitoshi nodded. “I was just a kid, you know? And, my mate he was, he took care of me, so I wasn’t really in a place where I could leave. But it wasn’t good either. He sort of just. Ignored me after he found out I couldn’t— but he was my alpha.”
“You loved him?” Denki said gently.
“God, no. I barely knew him, even after. I was with him for two years, but it’s still. Mate bites are strong, you know? I wanted to make him happy and it was. Kind of torture that there was nothing I could do to. To do that.”
“So what’s this got to do with Mister Aizawa?”
“Right, well, he and his organization busted the broker that set up the marriage. They found lists of all the matings they’d set up. He came and found me, and they arrested my alpha. Would have put him in jail for a long time if I hadn’t testified that he, you know, never hurt me, or touched me without permission or anything. He got a really big fine, and probation, and a restraining order saying he’ll be arrested if he comes near me.”
“Mister Aizawa did that?”
“Yeah,” Hitoshi said with a curt nod. “He got me out, he helped me uh. Deal with some of the fallout, and he offered me a job and I. I’ve been doing that ever since.”
“Do you like it?”
“The flower shop?”
“Yeah.”
“I love it,” Hitoshi says. “I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”
Denki beamed at him, felt some of the jittery, fearful tension leave his legs, his bouncing knees, and he said, “Then your story had a happy ending! I’m glad you told me. Thank you.”
When Hitoshi just peered quietly at him, Denki said, “Well. Since we’re kinda talking about serious things, can I ask you why you don’t like to be scented?”
Hitoshi winced. “How did you know that.”
“I.” It was a revelation. Denki was shocked to realize he had actually— “I was paying attention,” he explained. “You hide your nose and mouth when there’s a lot of people around, and Katsuki said you were angry about me, uh, scenting that omega the other day—”
“I didn’t know I was so obvious,” Hitoshi mumbled.
“I. I don’t know that you are, though!” Denki said quickly. “I just. Well. I dunno, I like looking at you, so I sorta.”
“You were paying attention,” Hitoshi said.
“Yeah.”
“When you’re an omega with a. A strong quirk,” Hitoshi said carefully. “Sometimes alphas— some alphas— they feel like the only control they have is. Is scenting, I guess.”
Denki wrinkled his nose. “That’s not what scenting is for.”
Hitoshi shrugged. “Some people think it is. My alpha. Ex. Alpha, he uh. If I was bothering him—”
“Bothering him?” Denki said sharply.
“We’d get in these fights,” Hitoshi explained. “I said, he sort of ignored me after? Well, he’d go out and he was. He was probably fooling around, but he just. He didn’t want to talk to me, or spend time with me, and we’d argue if I asked and he just started— To get me to leave him alone.”
Denki’s stomach turned over. That was easily the worst thing Hitoshi had told him, and he didn’t know how to reply to it. Some mate bonds were strong enough that Hitoshi might not just have been persuaded by his alpha’s scenting, but actually compelled.
And the idea of a younger Hitoshi compelled to stop bothering the person who was supposed to cherish and love him—
“That’s terrible,” Denki said.
“It sounds more dramatic than it—”
“No, that’s terrible,” Denki interrupted. “I can’t imagine how lonely that must have been.”
Hitoshi wrinkled his brows and his voice was a little distant when he said, “Yeah. I guess it was.”
“Is it all scenting that bothers you?”
“No. Sensei and Hizashi don’t bother me. They’re the closest thing I have to family, and I don’t… really have…” He trailed off.
“What was that?”
“Uh. Oh god. I, um. I don’t really have friends, so.”
“Really?”
“Sort of a loner, I guess,” he mumbled.
“Hot.”
“What?” Hitoshi replied with a surprised chuckle.
Denki leaned back and threw his arm around the back of the booth. Around Hitoshi’s shoulder. “I said what I said.”
“I really don’t get you.”
“Oh come on, like this whole tortured, broody-quiet, lone wolf thing you got going on isn’t insanely sexy. You have to know this.”
Hitoshi put one hand over his face and laughed, and it was shy and humble and embarrassed and Denki felt like he was slipping, very, very slowly down a very steep ledge.
“What about you?” Hitoshi countered, lifting his eyes from behind his own palm. “What is this, off duty stripper chic?”
Denki’s answering laugh was loud and shocked and free and felt so good after the sad story Hitoshi had told him, he almost wanted to just… keep laughing. “You don’t like the way I dress?”
“I never said that,” Hitoshi mumbled.
“So you do like it, then?”
“I… never said that.”
“Well, it’s gotta be one or the other.”
“It can’t be somewhere in the middle?”
“Admit it, Violet. You think I’m sexy.”
Hitoshi’s cheeks turned vibrantly pink.
“You do, come on, say it, you think I’m adorable and you totally want to kiss me again and maybe fool around in the back of the movie theater a little bit, go on—”
“I’ve never actually fooled around in the back of a movie theater,” Hitoshi said rather pertly, purposely not meeting Denki’s eye again. But this time it felt more like he was teasing than hiding.
“What? You have to be fucking me.”
“I. Am not.”
“How the fuck have you never—”
“I just told you,” Hitoshi pointed out. “Arranged marriage, seventeen. I didn’t do a lot of things teenagers do,” he added with a shrug.
“We’re totally fooling around in the back of the movie theater.”
“Oh, we are, are we?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“You’re awfully confident in yourself.”
“Have you seen me?”
Hitoshi buried his face in both hands and giggled so hard his shoulders shook, even though he was mostly silent. Denki slid a little closer to him, pulled him closer with the arm he had slung around his shoulders.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Denki actually jumped when the server slid up to their table, and he realized that somehow, he and Hitoshi had both finished their meals.
At the server dropped off their check (and Denki snatched it up before Hitoshi could try to reach for it) he gave Hitoshi another smile and said, “So. Movie?”
❀❀❀
Hitoshi wasn’t actually sure if Denki had meant what he said about— about the movie theater. Denki held his hand the entire walk there, and while he paid for the tickets (even though Hitoshi argued he’d paid for dinner, so Hitoshi should handle this part), and while he got them both drinks and a box of candy to share.
Hitoshi wasn’t even sure which movie they were seeing. He had butterflies in his stomach. That felt like a stupid thing to think but it was true. He had no other word for the sensation.
The date had gotten off to an unorthodox start. Hitoshi had been anxious all week about how he should tell Denki what he needed to hear. He’d planned to tell him at the very least why his marriage had crumbled because he liked Denki and the last thing he needed to do was fall in love with a man only to have him leave Hitoshi all alone when he found out Hitoshi couldn’t give him what another omega might be able to.
Not again.
And it was stupid to even be thinking about love and families again, not when Hitoshi knew he wanted no such thing, but when Denki was looking at him it was hard to think about anything but the violent, addictive way his heart constricted in response.
So he’d known he had to tell him.
He hadn’t intended to tell him everything else though. How he’d found out in the first place, how he’d met Shouta, how his mating had dissolved the way it did.
Denki hadn’t seemed the slightest bit fazed.
Hitoshi kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He was sure Denki would tell him at the end of the night that he’d had a good time, but he didn’t see them going out again. He’d been sure of that before he’d sent the flowers, sure that even if Denki accepted his apology, he’d still let Hitoshi down gently at the end of the night, with a smile and sunshine in his eyes.
But he kept making plans.
There was the kiss. The truly wonderful, poignant little brushing of lips that Hitoshi thought he could maybe revisit in his dreams. And then Denki had said, Now you won’t have to worry about telling me. I like you. You’ll believe me when I say I want to see you again.
And if that wasn’t just reading a little too closely into what was going on in Hitoshi’s head…
And now, as they settled into their seats early, before previews had even started, Denki was telling him about his favorite bridge in the city, how he liked to sketch there, and, “— oh, lemme take you sometime!”
“Why?”
“So I can show you! Also, ooh, I could sketch you, maybe looking down at the water, you’ve got the most delicate features, you’re really fun to sketch, did you know that? You’re so beautiful, it’s like you’re already too perfect, and I haven’t figured out what color to use for your eyes yet, but I’m gonna, I’m definitely gonna, and—”
Hitoshi felt sick with embarrassment, and also with the overwhelming desperation to feel Denki’s lips on his again. He hoped Denki didn’t notice, didn’t realize how uncomfortable Hitoshi was with being… praised like that.
He’d never disliked the way he looked, but he’d also never considered himself beautiful before. Or delicate. When he looked in the mirror, he saw wild hair, sunken eyes, sallow skin, lips that never smiled, and scars that were impossible to ignore.
It was almost ludicrous that Denki thought him beautiful, and yet—
There was the card.
It was small enough that Hitoshi had simply tucked it into his back pocket, and he couldn’t stop reaching back to check that it was still there.
The man in the drawing had been beautiful. And Hitoshi could see that it was supposed to be him. He didn’t think he looked even remotely that lovely though. Denki had been kind in his illustration.
The movie theater was still empty by the time the previews started, but for a trio of loud young people who’d seated themselves a few rows back from the front. They were talking in normal voices instead of whispering, occasionally flinging popcorn at each other. Denki had led them to the very back row and into the corner, instead of the center like Hitoshi would have assumed, and with every passing second, Hitoshi’s heart beat harder.
He couldn’t read Denki. Everything he said was cloaked in such good humor, Hitoshi couldn’t tell what as a joke and what he was serious about.
Hitoshi had never fooled around in a movie theater before. He hadn’t fooled around with anyone at all in years. His alpha had been the only person he’d even shared a real kiss with before that all ended, and he really had only gone out a few times after that.
He jumped into bed with the second person he met right after everything fell apart, just to show himself he actually could sleep with someone who wasn’t his ex, and it had been… fine he supposed. It had been strange.
But then they’d gone their separate ways and maybe Hitoshi just hadn’t seen the point since.
“Hitoshi?”
“Huh?” Hitoshi said, realizing Denki had been talking and he’d been staring at the movie screen without actually hearing anything.
“Are you alright?”
“Uh. Fine.”
He turned his head and met Denki’s eye just as Denki gave him a very obvious once over and said skeptically, “Are you sure?”
He looked pointedly at Hitoshi’s knee, which he was jiggling incessantly, and then at Hitoshi’s face and Hitoshi realized he’d ducked into his scarf without meaning to.
He laughed a little sheepishly and lowered it back down around his neck. “I’m. Okay.”
“Okay,” Denki said slowly. “You sure, you’re not nervous about something? You did the thing with your—” He waved at his own mouth. “Oh, gosh, am I scenting you? I didn’t mean to be!”
“No, you’re fine, it’s all— good. You’re not.”
In fact, Denki’s scent had shifted a little, but it wasn’t overpowering. It was. Nice.
Good.
Fuck, he smelled so good.
When Denki kept staring at him in concern, Hitoshi admitted, “I. You said you wanted to— in the movie theater, and I, um.”
Denki’s brows rose and he laughed, immediately, instantly put Hitoshi at ease. “What, that? You know we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna right?”
“I know.”
“I just mean, I wouldn’t, you know, try to talk you into—”
“I know.”
“So what are you so nervous about?”
The movie was starting.
Hitoshi swallowed a little harder than he would have liked and Denki’s eyes narrowed.
“Wait. Do. Do you want to?”
Hitoshi’s cheeks got fearfully hot and he stared at the movie screen, but even he couldn’t stop his body from responding. His stomach fluttered and his heart did too, and for the first time in a long, long time, his scenting senses felt beyond his control, broadcasting a message he wasn’t sure he was ready to share.
He heard Denki take a slow, deep breath. He didn’t say anything else, just reached out and took Hitoshi’s hand where it rested on the arm rest between them.
He’d held Hitoshi’s hand a lot tonight, knew it was safe to do so, and that Hitoshi didn’t mind. He just threaded their fingers together and looked at the screen and Hitoshi sat like that for about five heavy beats of his heart before he twisted, grabbed Denki by the chin with his free hand, and brought their lips together.
He did it.
He did it, it was his idea and his choice and the little sound Denki made before he opened his mouth and tilted his head so they’d fit together even more tightly was a sound Hitoshi drew from him and that was it.
All it took.
Hitoshi felt claimed, fully and completely, by that kiss. In that inevitable instant he felt himself decimated and surrounded by sunshine and citrus and Denki’s surprised, happy little, “Oh!”
It felt so good Hitoshi wanted to cry. He wanted to weep with the relief of it, and he was still deeply terrified that Denki would want someone more skilled but the fear faded to a tolerable amount when Denki somewhat awkwardly lifted the arm rest between them and then half slid into Hitoshi’s seat. He was pressed up against Hitoshi’s body, kissing him sweetly and gently, but still so eagerly.
Hitoshi suddenly felt panicked by how badly he wanted him.
“You even taste good,” Denki whispered, voice almost pleading for some reason. His lips still touched Hitoshi’s when he spoke.
He closed the distance again, deepened the kiss and brushed his tongue against Hitoshi’s.
Hitoshi pulled away, tips of his fingers flying to cover his mouth and eyes very wide in the dark.
Denki blinked at him, almost dazed for a moment, and then grinned. “Shit, sorry. Did I freak you out?”
“Your. Tongue,” was the only response Hitoshi could manage.
Denki grinned again and stuck his tongue out and Hitoshi’s heart turned completely upside down and dove into his belly.
The tip of Denki’s tongue was pointing in two separate directions. While Hitoshi was staring at him, he reversed the direction of each independent point and Hitoshi managed a very weak, “Um. What.”
Denki snickered. “I think it’s sexy. You don’t think it’s sexy?”
“What happened— why is it like that.”
“Oh!” Denki whispered back, voice bright. “No, I did it. I mean, I had it done. Split, I mean. Like, you know the muscles in your tongue are, like, totally independent, but they’re joined by the, uh, the tissue in the middle? So if you’re into body modification, which— I mean, yeah, look at me— you can have it cut and then you can learn to do all sorts of neat tricks and stuff, and move both sides. And. You know, it’s kinda hard to tell unless I show you, or you feel it.”
Hitoshi swallowed, stomach still doing that strange swooping. He couldn’t tell if he was excited or maybe a little nauseated. Maybe both.
“I usually warn people, my bad. I just got really excited,” he added with another giggle. “God, you’re so hot I could fucking die.”
Hitoshi still didn’t say anything and Denki’s face very slowly started to fall.
“Does it freak you out too much?”
Hitoshi wasn’t sure. What came out instead, when he opened his mouth, was, “Uh. You. You think I’m.”
“Well, yeah, stupid,” Denki said. “Obviously. I mean I already told you.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
Hitoshi swallowed the little choked off protest he’d started to make at himself for asking that, and then said, “I just mean.” He paused. “God, Denki, don’t I bore you?”
“What?”
Hitoshi turned his head, looked at the movie screen. Denki was still pressed up against his side. He didn’t quite know how to articulate his feelings here, and so what came out was just, “I really don’t like needles.”
“So don’t get pierced. Or tattoos. What’s that got to do with anything?”
Hitoshi bit his lip and didn’t go on. He couldn’t really. He had no idea what to say.
“Do you. Can I kiss you again?”
Hitoshi turned and looked at him.
Denki bit his lip and frowned. “I can’t really— you know, if you were like freaked out by one of my dick piercings or something I could just take it out, but this is sorta—”
“One of them?”
Denki’s sad expression lifted just a little. “Yeah, I’ve got— hold on, uh, five?”
“Five? How?”
“Wanna see?”
Hitoshi looked quickly back at the movie screen. He.
He did actually. Just not at the movie theater. But because he could feel Denki sort of… sag beside him, he said, “Um. Which. Ones. How?” And then because he was already blushing more than he’d ever thought possible, he said, “Just tell me what it looks like, if you take your dick out in the movie theater I think I’ll… I don’t know. Die.”
Denki snickered. “Die in a good way?”
“I. Fuck. Maybe.”
“Maybe? So you do want to see my dick?”
“If I do, I don’t want to be in a theater. And I don’t— Uh. Time. I need some.”
“Well, how about a picture?”
Hitoshi turned his head again.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve got pictures, you wanna see?”
Actually. He really did. But, also— “It doesn’t freak me out.”
“What now?”
“Your uh. Your tongue. Your. Dick. I.” He took a deep breath, forced the words out before he could think better of them. “I think you’re. You’re incredibly sexy. Everything. Everything about you. I was just. Surprised.”
“Really?” Denki said, voice lower and a little more… surprised than Hitoshi expected.
It made Hitoshi laugh. “You’re too pretty for me, I don’t really know why you want—”
Denki kissed him again.
He did it hard and fast, forced Hitoshi’s head toward him and pushed his tongue in Hitoshi’s mouth and Hitoshi’s ears started to ring. He broke to suck in a breath, but Denki just moved to his jaw, his neck, his ear— “Oh. I. Uh. Wow.”
“You like that?” Denki teased, a smile in his voice.
Hitoshi kissed him back. He knew he was out of practice, probably a little fumbling. Or. Maybe a lot. He hadn’t had a lot of practice to begin with. But.
Kissing Denki felt so good it made Hitoshi want to pull his his out a little. It was just so… confusing. He’d had no idea a kiss could feel so good, and then Denki would do something with his tongue that made Hitoshi’s brain tie itself in knots and then he was relaxing against his chair in a way that was not at all relaxed and was actually mostly just so overwhelmed holding himself upright felt like too much work.
Denki pulled away from Hitoshi’s lips and dragged the tip of his tongue along the line of Hitoshi’s jaw.
“I— fuck, okay, yes, I like it.”
Denki made a high pitched, wordless sort of teasing sound and kissed back towards Hitoshi’s mouth.
Hitoshi tried to swallow down some of his nervous energy and failed. His mouth felt too dry and his hands were shaking. He grabbed Denki by the shirt to try to steady himself.
“Smell good,” Denki said, voice husky now. “Smell so good.”
“So do you,” Hitoshi whispered back before he could stop himself.
Denki pulled back a little and said, “I’m sorry, I’m trying not to— it’s hard, I just want you so much.”
“You. You do?”
“Yeah, stupid,” Denki said, laughing a little. “I’ve never wanted to take a guy out so badly before.”
“I… why though?” Hitoshi asked, voice a little frantic now. He felt stupid for asking again, ridiculous for blurting it, but he just couldn’t make it make sense. What did Denki see in him?
Denki leaned back and peered at him. “I don’t know. I just like everything about you. You’re sweet and sexy and you smell really good and your voice gives me goosebumps and everytime I see you I want to just… hold you and put my face in your hair. It’s really weird, I’ve never felt like that before. Is that okay? Does that freak you out?”
Hitoshi wanted to protest, to tell Denki he wasn’t nearly that special and Denki deserved someone special, but the open, eager look in his eye just made Hitoshi say, “I know what you mean.”
Denki grinned at him and then marginally lowered his voice when he said, “There’s other stuff I want to do too, if you want me to.”
Hitoshi wet his lips. “Like what?”
“Dirty stuff.”
Hitoshi spared himself about two seconds to think and when no single part of him protested even a little bit, he said, “Like what?”
Denki’s grin sharpened, got a little mischievous, and he said, “You said you’ve never fooled around in a movie theater before, right?”
“Uh. Yeah. Uh huh.”
Denki’s eyes flicked to the front of the theater. The only other people there were still talking loudly to one another, and seemed to not even know Hitoshi and Denki were here.
Denki leaned in close and said right in Hitoshi’s ear, “Bet I could make you come without them noticing.”
Hitoshi felt like he’d stepped into an inferno.
Heat raced over his whole body, devoured him from head to toe, and he didn’t say anything, but Denki’s eyes glazed very slightly and his nostrils flared and Hitoshi couldn’t control how desperately he was scenting back yes, yes, fuck, yes, please, yes—
“How?”
“My fingers,” Denki said quickly. “And my quirk.”
“Your quirk?”
“Yeah. Trust me. I wouldn’t hurt you. I mean, not unless you really wanted me to.”
“Your quirk can—”
“Yeah, it’s kinda like… you know when you get a bad shock, your whole body kinda seizes up? Well, it’s like that but just a little bit, so it doesn’t hurt, it just makes your muscles tense up and then you… you know.”
Hitoshi felt like he couldn’t make sense of his own thoughts. They were swirling, scrambling, and he couldn’t even attempt to tell himself how much the thought of all of this turned him on. Denki was going to be able to smell it on him, if he couldn’t already.
He said quietly, “You. You want to do that?”
“Oh my god, yeah,” Denki said brightly. “Oh my god, that would be so hot. Do you wanna?”
Hitoshi looked at the movie screen, and then at the three people up front and then at Denki.
He nodded.
Denki gave him a truly wicked grin and said, “Be quiet, okay?”
Before Hitoshi could respond, Denki started kissing his neck, just under his ear, and nibbling his ear lobe again, and kissing his jaw, and as he did, he put a hand on Hitoshi’s belly and slid it lower.
Hitoshi put one hand in Denki’s hair, held him close, and could focus on nothing but Denki’s hand as it moved downward. He paused at Hitoshi’s jeans to undo the button, slowly unzipped Hitoshi’s fly, and then his naked palm was pressed against Hitoshi’s bare skin.
Hitoshi was breathing so hard it was making little spots dance in front of his eyes.
“Sure you’re okay?”
Hitoshi just jerked his head in a nod, entirely undone by the feeling of Denki’s warm hand against his hips. No one had touched him here in years. No one had come even close. The anticipation, the very idea of Denki going further was impossible, filled Hitoshi with a blazing, white hot need that vacated all other thought. All he could hear was his own insane heart beat and quiet, gasping breaths.
“Hitoshi?”
Hitoshi grit his teeth and squeezed his hand in Denki’s shirt.
“I can’t tell if I should stop. Are you sure you’re—”
“No.”
“No?”
“Don’t— uh— please, don’t—”
Denki started to pull his hand away, to twist his fingers out of Hitoshi’s waist band, and Hitoshi gasped and grabbed him by the wrist. Denki froze.
Hitoshi froze too, and all his thoughts twisted somewhere else, somewhere dark and quiet where all he could hear was his own desperate, choked off whines and a bored voice telling him not to be so needy—
Denki put his free hand on the side of Hitoshi’s cheek, and Hitoshi smelled calm on the air. And… safety and that was new because no one had ever bothered trying to make him feel safe before except Shouta but everything else about that had been different.
Hitoshi wet his lips and turned his head. Denki said, “‘M sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” Hitoshi said quickly. “I like the way you smell. I don’t mind. I. I really don’t.”
Denki smiled at him. “I know I shouldn’t have, but you. Well, you sorta scented…”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Uh. Kinda. Kinda like… fear? But not exactly?”
Hitoshi took a shivery little breath. Denki’s hand was still pressed to his waist. “I meant. I meant I didn’t want you to stop. If. If you didn’t. Didn’t want to. That is.”
Denki’s mouth twisted and he clearly chewed on the inside of his cheek. After a beat, he pulled Hitoshi into another kiss.
And then pushed his hand further into Hitoshi’s jeans.
Hitoshi’s back arched in his seat when Denki slid his fingers and then his palm around Hitoshi’s cock. All of him fit in Denki’s hand, and Denki wiggled his hand a bit until he could wrap his whole fist around Hitoshi when Hitoshi didn’t stop him, or urge him lower. He rubbed his thumb in a little circle over the head and Hitoshi felt how wet he was here already. He broke the kiss, bit his own lip to keep from moaning and curled in on himself.
“Fuck, I wanna put you in my mouth.”
“God.”
He stroked Hitoshi’s skin with just the pad of his thumb and the heat that charged over Hitoshi’s skin was nearly unbearable.
“Oh, you’re sensitive, aren’t you, baby?” Denki whispered. “Shit, I love that.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. Are you like that all over?”
“I— I don’t. I don’t kn—”
Denki moved his hand again, kept his palm pressed against Hitoshi’s cock and teased the tips of his fingers over Hitoshi’s cunt.
It was maddening. It was maddening how good it felt and Hitoshi thought of his last heat, of how uncomfortable he’d been, but that had really been all. He’d been restless and he’d been in a little bit of pain, but the mind numbing desperation of his teenage years and very early twenties just hadn’t been there anymore. Hitoshi had thought that was a good thing, and then he thought about the swift, clinical way he touched himself.
He didn’t take his time. He didn’t tease. He just… got it over with.
This was not that.
Denki was leisurely covering his hand in slick, and there was a lot of it. Hitoshi gave up trying to control his breathing and just leaned into Denki, let himself go limp against him.
When he pressed the pad of one finger up like he’d finally slip deeper, Hitoshi arched back in the seat again, squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. But Denki pulled that finger away and did the same with another. Teasing. Torturous.
“Are you sure you can keep quiet?” he asked, a note of good humored amusement in his voice.
Hitoshi hadn’t made a sound yet that wasn’t a very soft gasp for air, but it was a close thing. He nodded his head hard, realized he was warm, melty putty in Denki’s hands right now.
“Does it feel good?”
Hitoshi nodded again, eyes still squeezed shut.
“Do you want me to put my fingers inside you?”
Now Denki was just fucking with him. He tightened his grip on Denki’s shirt, gave him another quick nod.
“You do?” Hitoshi huffed out a sharp breath. “You do.” Fuck, why was he taunting him like this? And every time he spoke, he started to dip his finger in and then just didn’t, just brushed them over Hitoshi’s skin, and over his frustratingly sensitive entrance.
“Okay. If you want it that badly.” Denki was almost painfully gentle when he curved two fingers and let them slide inside.
Hitoshi sucked in a huge breath to cover his little moan of encouragement. He felt like he’d lost all semblance of who he was ten minutes ago, like Denki was filling him up in so many ways and his soft, careful fingers were only the start.
The relief was overwhelming. Indescribable.
He felt so full in a way that he just didn’t when he was using his own fingers, or even a toy. There was just something about knowing another person was touching him that made his own efforts to satisfy himself feel paltry and pathetic in response. His eyelids fluttered, and his heart skipped and he squeezed down around Denki’s fingers just to feel the shape of him where he was pressed inside.
Denki bit the rim of Hitoshi’s ear and then said, “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet. I wish I could taste you right now.”
God. That.
That was the second time Denki had said that, and Hitoshi obviously knew that was something people did, but since no one had ever done that for him, he had the vague, half formed thought that it was the sort of thing one was more likely to see in a porno. That normal people didn’t actually do that in real life.
“God, I bet you taste good. You have the sweetest little cunt, you’re so tight and hot and wet, fuck, this is like torture. I wanna see it.”
God, Denki what the fuck.
He pressed up and in with his fingers and Hitoshi dug his nails into Denki’s bare arm.
“Okay?”
It took Hitoshi a few seconds to realize Denki was talking to him, that he wanted an answer.
“G-good, yeah. Fine. I. Oh god.”
Denki curled his fingers again, hit a spot that Hitoshi was never able to reach on his own, and Hitoshi’s whole body went red hot.
“There?” Denki said. He did it again.
Hitoshi clapped a hand over his mouth to cover up the shocked yell that Denki forced out of him.
“There,” Denki said again, this time with a smile in his voice, and he did it a third time, rubbed a gentle little circle that made Hitoshi’s cunt clench and spasm around his fingers.
“I’m gonna try my quirk now, tell me if it’s good,” he said right into Hitoshi’s ear, sparing a glance toward the front of the theater when he did.
Hitoshi nodded because it was the only thing he could really do.
It started as little more than a light tickle. Hitoshi blinked blearily at the movie screen, couldn’t really see what was going on.
Denki said, “Okay? What’s that like?”
“Uh. Ti-tickle, I guess,” Hitoshi managed to huff out. It was an odd sensation, pinpointed at the tips of Denki’s fingers.
Denki made a quiet humming noise and then Hitoshi shouted when he felt his body contract like he was about to start coming.
Denki laughed, and pressed his hand to Hitoshi’s mouth quickly enough that Hitoshi just made an odd, quiet, choking noise.
It happened again.
Again.
Denki was doing it, was making Hitoshi squeeze around his fingers and every clench felt so impossibly good, Hitoshi thought each one was the start of the end. And when it didn’t, when he just kept squeezing like that in a pulsing rhythm entirely outside of his own control, his desperation to come hit him so intensely he wondered if a heat had ever been this bad. At least during heats it was easy to finish himself off. But now, like this, he realized between each incredible, infuriating squeeze that he wasn’t done yet, that there would be more. And it was terrifying.
He buried his face in Denki’s neck, breathed in the wonderful, summery smell of him and listened to his own frantic gasps echoing off Denki’s collarbone.
Denki exuded playful confidence. He was smug and cheeky and satisfied and stroking his free hand over the back of Hitoshi’s head while he drew Hitoshi closer and closer to a mind-numbing edge with two impossibly wonderful fingers.
Hitoshi wasn’t going to last, and he didn’t realize what a problem that would be until he was squirming in his seat, feeling slick soak through his underwear, whimpering softly against Denki’s skin.
“Shit, you’re gonna make me come,” Denki whispered. The playful note in his voice told Hitoshi this wasn’t really true. “God, I’m so fucking hot for you right now. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”
“I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna—”
“Can’t? Can’t what?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t stop, I can’t—”
“Stop?”
“Come, I’m gonna— oh— oh my god.”
It was easily the most incredible thing Hitoshi had ever felt and that realization hit him so hard he went slack in his chair. Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing had ever felt this good and he was in the back of a movie theater and a man with a split tongue and five dick piercings and tattoos all over his body who smelled like sunshine and storm clouds at the same time was doing it to him easy like it was nothing, like it meant so little when it meant more than Hitoshi could even begin to put into words.
With his fingers.
Just his fingers.
“Oh god.”
“It’s good?”
“So. So, g— I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m gonna— I’m—”
“Want you to,” Denki went on. “You don’t have to fight it.”
Hitoshi was though. Because it had been so long since anyone had touched him, and because the last time anyone had, he’d been young and eager, had been mercilessly teased for being too eager, for falling too fast. So the idea that he couldn’t even control himself now—
“Please? Please come for me, please, baby?”
His voice was so calm and sweet, so soothing, that Hitoshi took a big, trembling breath and just—let himself go.
Denki pressed Hitoshi’s face hard against his chest all at once, muffled the desperate, euphoric sob that came out of his mouth when the pulsing in Denki’s fingertips was just too much and Hitoshi’s whole body spasmed and sang in response.
Denki’s soft, careful fingers felt better than anything Hitoshi had ever felt before. He smelled better, his skin tasted better, his voice sounded better. Everything about him was just better.
He held his breath after the first wave of release hit him because if he hadn’t, he would have screamed. He wanted to. He wanted to scream and thank Denki in one continuous, babbling litany for giving this to him because he hadn’t known it was possible for anything to feel so incredible. Even during his heats he felt more… relief than what this was.
Hitoshi had tears pricking the corners of his eyes by the time the last little quivers left him and Denki very carefully eased his fingers out.
He pet over Hitoshi’s head with his other hand, and Hitoshi kept breathing hard against his collarbone until Denki carefully pulled away from him.
He put his fingers in his mouth, sucked them clean and grinned, and Hitoshi felt the room spin.
“Fuck, I knew you’d taste good. That was so hot, you’re so fucking cute when you come, I can’t stand it.”
Hitoshi wet his mouth. “I. Uh.”
“It felt like you came really hard,” Denki said with another little giggle. “Like, I could feel it, you know? Was it a good one?”
Hitoshi had nothing for that except to offer one single, disbelieving huff.
“Well. I mean, I could do better if we weren’t you know, in a fucking movie theater.”
“Better.”
“Well, yeah. For one, I’d have sucked your cock. Do you like butt stuff? I’d have played with your asshole a little too,” he added with a wide grin.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I mean. I’ve, uh. Never. So.”
“Shit. I mean, you know, everyone’s different, but I fucking love it.” When Hitoshi just stared at him, he shrugged, and said, “Well, I also fuck with alphas too, so like. You know, a lot of em just wanna fuck something.”
Hitoshi was feeling light headed again. He felt like he was floating.
“You okay?”
Hitoshi nodded, and because Denki was still looking at him in concern and obviously had no idea that he’d just literally single-handedly rearranged Hitoshi’s understanding of what the word orgasm meant, he said, “Good. Very— so— fuck. I— Good.”
“Really?”
Hitoshi must have been feeling downright sex drunk because he said, “Never that— like that. Before.”
“Really?” Denki said loudly enough that someone down in front turned their head.
Hitoshi nodded and wet his lips.
“Well now I can’t wait to get you into bed for real,” Denki teased. “I can do so much better than that.”
“I don’t know that I could survive that,” Hitoshi said without thinking to stop himself.
Denki giggled and then said, “Fuck, look how hard I am.” He motioned to his lap and Hitoshi looked down at the enormous bulge in his tiny denim shorts before he could think better of it. Denki snickered and grabbed his cock, re-arranged the way it was pressing against his leg a little, and then said, “I kinda want some popcorn. You want some popcorn?”
Hitoshi blinked at him.
“I’m gonna get popcorn. Well, I guess, in a minute,” he added with another giggle, motioning to his lap again. “Do you have any idea what’s going on in this movie?”
“I. No.”
Denki shrugged. “Least that guy’s hot,” he announced, pointing toward the lead actor who was currently engaged in some kind of shootout.
Before Hitoshi could get his thoughts straightened out, Denki grabbed him by the shoulders and directed him to lean back in his chair, and back against Denki’s chest.
Then he kissed the side of Hitoshi’s head before he threaded his hand into Hitoshi’s hair.
“I don’t think they noticed, do you?” he mumbled under his breath.
Hitoshi peered at the three people up front, who still appeared unaware that anyone else was in the theater. “I hope not.” He wasn’t sure how they could have missed it, honestly. The smell of slick and want and desperate need felt thick and heavy around them.
But they didn’t turn around.
And Hitoshi certainly wasn’t going to ask them.