Chapter Text
Hizashi helps Hitoshi carrying his bags and suitcases at the other end of the trip, taking everything out of the car after he parks in the underground car park under the building and brings it up to Shouta’s apartment to dump on the floor just inside the door. Hitoshi can figure out actually unpacking stuff later, or, knowing him, will open the cases and just take stuff out of them as he needs to for a really long time without ever putting anything away. Maybe Shouta will snap and organise it for him at some point.
“Whew, so now what?” Hizashi declares boisterously as the last bag goes down. A handbag, in this case, which Hitoshi’s stuffed near to overflowing with makeup. Hizashi’s gaze hones in on Hitoshi like a laser as he continues, “I believe there was the matter of settling up?”
“Are you always in such a rush?” Hitoshi replies cattily, even though he knows good and well that Hizashi is always in a rush to get his dick in someone as soon as he can. But that doesn’t mean Hitoshi has to let him.
Truthfully, he’s still not entirely convinced this is all good and fine, despite Shouta giving him no reason to think otherwise. Sure, Shouta does like to watch, but he’s not here so maybe he’s less fine with it under these circumstances. Or maybe Hitoshi just feels more like it’s cheating if he drops trou and presents his ass to his husband’s best friend at a moment’s notice. He ought to make Hizashi work for it a little bit more than that, surely?
Besides, if they get started now it’ll all be over before Shouta’s even likely to get back, and that scenario isn’t as appealing to Hitoshi as what could happen if he drags things out until Shouta does. Playing hard to get also proves that Hizashi wants it enough to work for it. And married or not, Hitoshi doesn’t put out for men who aren’t willing to try.
“A rush? I’ve been waiting the whole time!” Hizashi squawks, because yes, in his book not getting road head probably does count as patience, doesn’t it?
“Alright, alright,” Hitoshi soothes, going for his main handbag where he stashed his new weed, among other things. “Then what would you say to a cheeky smoke first?”
Hizashi clocks what kind of smoke immediately, and doesn’t outright reject Hitoshi, narrowing his eyes before saying, “Okay, but that doesn’t get you off the hook for more, mister.”
What is it about being gendered by him, Hitoshi thinks as a tingle runs up and down his back. Male or female, whichever way Hizashi refers to him just hits different. Like maybe he got a go with the girl experience, so now he’s eager to try out boy mode.
“Call it a pre-payment,” Hitoshi negotiates, pulling out the baggie properly to shake temptingly. “It’s good stuff.” Mamasan’s finest, or so she says.
Hizashi takes himself over to the sofa and reaches out for Hitoshi standing nearby, or at least what’s in his hand. “Alright, give it over then.”
“You wanna roll?”
“I’ll do an extra one for Shouta,” Hizashi explains as if it should be obvious. “In case he wants to play catch-up when he gets back.”
“Mhm,” Hitoshi affirms vaguely enough to not convey all the ‘how interesting’ observations he has about how quickly Hizashi's thoughts jump to Shouta even for something like this. Perhaps those competing scenarios of things-before-Shouta-gets-back and things-after-Shouta-gets-back aren’t only in Hitoshi’s head after all. “Be my guest.”
They roll together on different seats of the beat-up sofa, Hizashi clearly experienced enough to do it but perhaps a little out of practice, though he pulls the job off rolling a slim ¾ joint compared to the thick one Hitoshi rolls for the both of them. Shouta can’t roll at all, or hasn’t shown any inclination of being able to, so maybe Hizashi’s just looking out for his friend on the assumption himself and Hitoshi might be otherwise occupied by the time Shouta’s ready to play ‘catch up’.
“You two do a lot of stuff like this in the past?” Hitoshi dares to probe as he’s tapping down the end of his well-rolled joint and watches Hizashi twist off the end of Shouta’s.
“Oh yeah,” Hizashi answers easily, setting the finished joint out on top of some papers covering the coffee table and leaning back to fix his eyes wholly on Hitoshi again. “You shoulda seen him when he was your age.”
“Really?” Hitoshi asks with a rush of delight, fishing out a lighter from his purse and getting up to go over to the balcony. He brought a lot of stuff over, but not his table or chairs from the balcony, so there’ll be a need for more trips even after this one before he’s fully moved out. Which could mean more afternoons like this. Oh dear. “What was he like?”
Hizashi rolls the balcony door shut behind them, coming to stand across from Hitoshi where he leans back against the balcony wall.
“Like he is now, but with about one tenth of his shit together.” Hizashi waits while Hitoshi lights up and gets the joint going, and of all the things to happen in Hitoshi’s life, many weird and unbelievable things, smoking a joint with Present Mic in Eraserhead’s empty apartment is still pretty high up on the list.
“Paint me a picture,” Hitoshi suggests, handing the joint over once he’s had a few decent tokes.
“Well he didn’t have a second job for a long time, so he just did his undercover shit 24/7. He’d spend a solid month sleeping on the streets, huffing paint thinner with gang members to work his way into an operation before taking them all down from the inside,” Hizashi answers before taking a disgustingly long drag on the joint, which Hitoshi supposes he should expect with that powerful voice and lungs to back it up. “Just as a random example,” he concludes spewing out a huge cloud of smoke like a dragon.
Hitoshi grabs the joint back jealously, fingers brushing Hizashi’s in the process, and the sparks still fly, no doubt about that.
“He seems pretty respected as a hero, even though he’s underground,” Hitoshi remarks through a haze of fragrant smoke, and Mamasan was right, this really is the good stuff. It hits Hitoshi faster than he expects, overly aware of himself, and Hizashi, and all these foreign surroundings. Oh, here it goes again.
“Is that a question?” Hizashi asks cleverly, reaching out to demand the joint back once Hitoshi's had his fill, which he gives up without a fight.
“I guess.” Hitoshi puts his hands back against the balcony wall, feeling too conscious all of a sudden. Of everything. “He wants me to help him out with the work people ask Eraserhead to do, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”
“Why wouldn’t it work?” Hizashi responds at the same cheery chatty level he’s usually at, but it’s Hitoshi who’s more on edge, even though he brought this topic up. Again. Way to be obvious.
“I dunno, because I’m not him?” he says a little more sharply than he’s got any reason to, but Hizashi just laughs.
“Half the things he’s asked for could be done by anyone, honey, they just ask him because they trust him,” Hizashi says almost soothingly, for him, though it errs a little on the side of patronising too. “Are you that worried about it?”
“I don’t know.” Hitoshi takes the joint off Hizashi again, tipping off the ash in the designated beer can ashtray. “It just seems weird that I could turn up somewhere instead of him and people would accept that.”
“He gets the job done,” Hizashi explains, hooking his thumbs through the loops of his leather trousers and not flirting or trying to get into Hitoshi’s jeans like he’ll die if he doesn’t get laid in the near future. It’s… maybe Hitoshi still prefers when he’s being a sex fiend. Less complicated. “So as long as you get the job done what’s the problem? You’ve been working undercover ops for a long time, haven’t you?”
Hitoshi nods, taking another drag and handing the joint off again. “Ten years almost,” he says out loud, making it more real, and not missing the horrified look that crosses Hizashi’s face for a second. Maybe Shouta told him that Hitoshi started young already, but maybe not how young. Maybe it’s just different hearing it from Hitoshi himself.
“Then you’ve got way more experience than most heroes your own age, and they do fine,” Hizashi reasons with him, and Hitoshi didn’t think he needed a pep talk, but maybe he does. From Hizashi, at least. “Besides, if Shouta supports you to work in his place most people will take that as a sign that you’re the real deal. Eraserhead’s never had someone like that before, despite getting plenty of offers.”
“Really?” Hitoshi says, trying not to sound hopeful or flattered.
“Sure. He just works in a… particular way, and doesn’t have the time or patience to train someone on the job when he’s already training dozens of kids at school already. If he trusts you to take on work for him, it means he believes you can do it without any input from him at all.” Hizashi puffs another greedy drag on the joint, almost done at this rate, and cocks an eyebrow as he adds, “Do you really need me to tell you all this?”
“I guess,” Hitoshi admits, looking down at himself, bare strip of his stomach covered partly with the silky over-layer top before hitting the waistband of his deep blue jeggings, his tattoo looking at him upside down from across his side. He's caught Hizashi eyeing it too, as well as the partly obscured one on his chest. He's seen it all before, kinda, but not really like this, because last time was the 'hooker experience' and now Hitoshi's just himself. “It’s just… different for me.”
“Because you worked for the hero commission before?” Hizashi fills in, and Hitoshi nods. “Shouta’s not gonna keep you on a leash like they do. Well,” he repeats slyly, handing the joint back to Hitoshi to finish off, “not in a professional sense.”
Hitoshi smirks, feeling those cracks in the tension, and is definitely high enough now to convince himself to think differently about the things he’s been trying not to think about. Like how he starts a brand new career from scratch after spectacularly burning the bridge from where he came.
“Yeah, I’ve been finding out about that too,” he admits a little more openly, pulse picking up as he remembers their wedding night. Anyone might think Hitoshi would be satisfied after all that, and not need to have inappropriate thoughts about people close enough to Shouta to apparently be okay for him to fool around with even when Shouta’s not here, but that would be wrong. Whether it’s nature or nurture, this is still who he is.
“Hm,” is the only sound Hizashi makes to that effect, watching instead while Hitoshi stubs out the joint and they head back inside. Moving was thirsty work so Hitoshi grabs a drink from the kitchen, just some water, but Hizashi’s spread himself out comfortably on the sofa by the time he gets back.
“Your solitary confinement room is mine now, by the way,” Hitoshi announces out of nowhere, and Hizashi makes a snort of confusion.
“What?”
“The room Shouta makes you sleep in if you have nowhere else to go. It’s going to be my wardrobe,” Hitoshi explains more fully, standing on the other side of the coffee table from Hizashi, not only because it puts distance enough between them to maintain, but because it lets Hizashi eye him appreciatively as Hitoshi’s come to rely on. The slow checking out, just about the only thing he ever seems to take his time with.
“It’s not my room,” Hizashi scoffs, slumping to one side on the sofa and resting his face on his fist, gaze still trained on Hitoshi. “He only made me sleep there a few times, he’s totally exaggerating.”
“More times than you’ve been allowed in the bed?” Hitoshi pounces on opportunity, and who can blame him? It’s fucking interesting, and the fact that neither of them seem to like talking about it only makes it moreso.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hizashi retorts, since two can play at that game apparently. Hizashi’s free hand stretches to the empty sofa beside him, patting at the cushions. “Why don’t you come sit down?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Hitoshi returns presumptively.
“I’ve got places I’d like you to sit more, but the couch will do,” Hizashi fires back. “You still owe me, you realise?”
“Really? You must not have been reminding me enough, I’d totally forgotten,” Hitoshi teases breezily, proceeding into the jaws of the lion by wandering around the coffee table and sitting down close to Hizashi, if not directly next to him.
But it’s not a moment after he’s settled that Hizashi leans in, an arm across the back of the sofa and his face diving into Hitoshi’s personal space, catching direct eye contact over the top of his mirrored shades. “Yeah, and I charge interest you know, so you better start paying up or you’re going to be in the red for a long time.”
Hitoshi can’t help it, okay, something about being pursued that makes him compelled to test just how badly the other person wants it. So when Hizashi moves closer again, clearly trying to kiss Hitoshi, he leans back and eludes the contact.
“Interest?” Hitoshi echoes, only just stopping himself laughing at the flush of frustration that colours Hizashi’s face. “We never discussed those rates.”
Then Hizashi’s restraint just snaps. He grabs Hitoshi by a hand on his knee and drops the arm off the back of the sofa to curl around his shoulders and presses himself up against Hitoshi with less than a centimeter of air between their faces.
“I’ve had as much of you playing hard to get as I’m willing to take, Hitoshi,” Hizashi mutters in a way that could melt the panties right off him, and Hitoshi just takes a shallow breath, looking straight back into those spiralling eyes. “I’m about to lose my patience here.”
Hitoshi’s heart is racing now, woozy and high and very thrilled in all sorts of ways.
But all he says is a coy, “Promise?”
Hizashi’s on him after that with the weight of a huge wave breaking over the beach. Hitoshi rocks back, mouth swallowed by an aggressive kiss, Hizashi’s palm groping up his leg for his crotch while the other arm curls tight and keeps him from backing away.
It feels like it should be wrong, Hitoshi’s wedding and engagement rings hot on his hand curling into fists, but Hizashi’s mouth is hotter. He kisses like a drunk teenager getting to make out for the first time, eagerly palming Hitoshi’s cock through his jeans and moaning into his mouth like the horny animal he is.
Hitoshi is permitted to move backwards finally when Hizashi releases the arm around him, actually pushing him back by the chest so Hitoshi flops back on the sofa with Hizashi halfway over him.
There’s a growl from Hizashi that sounds very much like, “Ungrateful slut,” before Hizashi kisses him again, basically on top of Hitoshi by now, and maybe Hitoshi is. Maybe that was the point. Bottling up the pressure to see when the lid would finally pop off, so from where Hitoshi’s sitting he’s done everything right.
“Ah– Hizashi,” Hitoshi purrs as the already outrageous amount of love bites and bruises around his neck are quickly added to, Hizashi sucking and biting his throat like he’s half a mind to tear it out. Animal. Total complete animal.
“Is this what you wanted, huh?” Hizashi baits, now fully rubbing Hitoshi’s cock bulge under the stretchy denim of his jeans, and doing some humping of his own against Hitoshi’s thigh while he’s at it. “Getting me all worked up?”
“Maaaaaybe,” Hitoshi moans, sighing with relief when Hizashi drops down and unzips Hitoshi’s fly. His head is resting on the sofa arm cushion, the rest of him spread unevenly across the sofa and under Hizashi, but he shuffles to lie on it more fully in the process of Hizashi dragging down his underwear and jeans.
“Bet you wouldn’t tease Shouta like this, would you?” Hizashi carries on even more filthily, and it’s true. Hitoshi never acted like this with Shouta because Shouta was the one who played hard to get between them. Does that make this some kind of revenge?
“I… ah,” Hitoshi breaks off from answering anything when Hizashi’s wet, greedy mouth closes around Hitoshi’s cock, starting to suck him off without further invitation than the mere exposure of his erection within distance of Hizashi’s lips. “I wanted to see how much you wanted it.” Shouta married him, there’s no question there of how much he wants it. But Hizashi’s flighty, slutty, far more like Hitoshi than Shouta is, and that means the game must be played differently.
Hizashi stops for a moment and looks up at him, Hitoshi’s cock full and resting against his face. He drags his tongue along the shaft, traces the curve of popping veins, slowly for once. “Does this answer your question?” he mutters before taking Hitoshi right back into his mouth, and part of Hitoshi expected Hizashi to be too selfish to get into stuff like giving head, but he’s very pleased to be wrong.
The chaotic energy Hizashi puts into kissing is right at home sucking cock, crude and sloppy and whorish, forcing his mouth down until Hitoshi’s cock stretches the back of his throat and watching Hitoshi squirm in response. He makes no movement to do anything for himself, not right now, anyway, though Hitoshi can only imagine what state that pierced ass-destroying cock is in after all this.
Maybe it’s because they’re both pretty high, which actually manages to slow things down a little, increases the easy fixation on one task alone. Hizashi sucks him off like mastering a new skill, honing down on the right balance of depth and suction to have Hitoshi bucking up into his mouth with heaving breaths. Then whenever Hizashi moans or hums it vibrates around Hitoshi’s dick, like some kind of powered fleshlight, and it’s weird and intense but very, very good.
“Does this even count? I feel like I– ahh, should owe you more,” Hitoshi remarks lazily, and Hizashi’s mouth lifts off him with a sordid pop.
“Oh, you do,” he says wickedly, but it doesn’t stop Hitoshi steering his cock back into his husband’s best friend’s mouth.
Being in this situation, cock getting sucked by his husband’s best friend and everything, for the most part might’ve meant that hearing the apartment door open would be cause to immediately stop doing that thing. Hitoshi hadn’t actually realised the door didn’t lock automatically and would just open when Shouta tried the handle. It’s also a bit earlier than Hitoshi had been telling himself to expect his husband back, which makes it all feel that much more like some sordid cuckold scenario than it has any right to be.
Hitoshi’s head is hanging a little over the end of the sofa, which means he can turn it to see Shouta walking in past the mass of Hitoshi’s things. It’s probably worth noting that Hizashi keeps enthusiastically sucking Hitoshi’s cock, not a single broken streak of his mouth around Hitoshi’s throbbing dick.
“Aren’t you back kinda–ahh early?” Hitoshi asks with enough conspicuous sounds to give away what the back of the sofa might obscure.
“Got through my schoolwork quicker than expected in the last periods of the day,” Shouta answers, walking unbothered, or maybe a little bothered, just in a particular kind of way. He comes into the view of them on the sofa, Hizashi undeterred in sucking Hitoshi off, and Hitoshi only hears the little sigh, but can picture the eye roll too. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I– ah, tried to resist, but he’s very persuasive,” Hitoshi replies with a distinctly twisted bolt of guilty pleasure at even the pretence of objection on Shouta’s part. This is not something Hitoshi ever expected either of them to be into, but if it works it works.
“He can be,” Shouta admits, unloading the coils of his capture weapon standing at the head of Hitoshi on the sofa, waves of pleasure rolling stronger up his body being watched with that inescapable gaze. Shouta’s eyes shift forwards, but only enough to find Hizashi with his mouth around Hitoshi’s cock. “Thanks for taking care of him.”
Hitoshi gasps, way too close already now Shouta’s here, magnifying everything physical with that powerful emotional prism he brings. Shouta bends down slowly right over Hitoshi, their faces at corresponding poles, aligned at the mouth. He just waits at first, teasing, before dipping in and gives his husband a tender, upside down welcome-home kiss.
There’s a moment of respite when Hizashi’s mouth lifts, taking a cool breath over Hitoshi’s wet cock, and he quips, “What are best friends for?” then gets right back to it.