there isn't much plot to this. setting is uh [makes vague hand motions] post-canon? let's go with that. don't take this too seriously.
title is from egotistic by mamamoo because i'm uncreative and i've been playing that bop for that last week, so.
warning for crying kink.
Eijun shuts off the light, plunging the living room into darkness, before practically skipping his way back to the couch, inelegantly plopping down next to Satoru. He ignores the other man's pained groan as he snuggles up to Satoru's side, arms wound tight around Satoru's midsection and face burrowed into the thin cloth of Satoru's shirt.
"You're excited," Satoru says, not unkindly, as he lifts his right arm to drape over Eijun's upper back, his hand completely covering Eijun's right shoulder. A small smile curls his lips as Eijun preens under the gesture, cuddling closer into the one-armed embrace and tucking his head under Satoru's chin.
"Of course I am!" Eijun chirps, his nose finding purchase on Satoru's collarbone. "I finally get to see you since, like, forever—"
"A week," Satoru interjects.
Eijun rolls his eyes. "Whatever, same thing. That's a long time in my book."
Satoru's ensuing laugh is low and fond, making Eijun's heart go warm and gooey. Satoru doesn't laugh often, so Eijun makes an effort to cherish the sound whenever he hears it. "You're making it seem like we barely see each other."
"Aw, you don't feel the same?" Eijun asks, pouting.
Satoru frowns down at the stray brown hairs tickling his chin, saying, all too seriously, "Of course I do."
Eijun peers up at him from under long, dark eyelashes. The gold flecks of his eyes are pronounced despite the room's minimal lighting, reflecting the various hues projected from the television screen. His mouth splits into a huge grin, red lips stretched over white teeth.
"So you do care!" Eijun says, triumphant. Satoru isn't sure what Eijun feels he won at that moment, but he doesn't have the heart to say anything mean-spirited about it.
Though he can say one thing: The light of victory dancing in Eijun's eyes never cease to look so enchanting.
"Whatever you say." It takes a pathetically great deal of willpower for Satoru to tear his gaze away from that all too alluring sight. He covers his mouth with his left hand, coughing into it to deter the dorky smile he knows is threatening to take over his face.
Eijun huffs as Satoru angles his head away. "And there you go ignoring me again. Would it kill you to pay attention to me?"
"Yes, it would," Satoru says, fingers splaying over his smiling mouth.
Eijun laughs good-naturedly, exceedingly familiar with Satoru's strange brand of teasing. "You're such a mean boyfriend."
Satoru is thankful for the darkness, as it covers the blush crowding his cheeks from hearing the word. Even after hearing it for the past two years, it never fails to make his heart race. "When is your dumb movie coming on?"
Eijun's shrill cry of protest is piercing. "This movie isn't dumb! All the critics gave this film really good reviews!"
It becomes second nature for Satoru to drone out Eijun's rant. Once Eijun finally pauses in his verbal dissertation that the film will showcase the pinnacle of true love and how it will save the industry, Satoru says, "I think it's coming on now."
Eijun's reaction is instantaneous: His face brightens, the lines of annoyance between his brows disappearing in an instant. Signature grin plastered on his face, Eijun crows, "Yay, finally! It's on, it's on!"
Satoru stills Eijun's hands as they flail at his chest, using the arm around Eijun's shoulders to bring him closer until there isn't a breath's worth of space between them. Eijun immediately curls up to his side, smile impossibly wide as his head nestles into the space between Satoru's neck and jaw.
The opening credits play, basking the duo in warm splashes of color. A soft melody envelops the room, the tinkering of bells and quiet vocals blending in seamlessly with the patter of raindrops against the windowpane. The film starts with the protagonist's inner monologue and the rest is history.
The movie is, by no means, boring—it mustn't be, seeing how Eijun is so enraptured that he hasn't spoken a word since the beginning (in fact, the only noises he's made are either wistful sighs or quiet giggles, which Satoru didn't find heartwarmingly adorable—he didn't). Satoru is no expert, but in just the first hour, he can see why it's praised. The characters are likable and the story is interesting. It helps that the score and the cinematography are well done. However, that wasn't the issue at hand.
At risk of sounding cliche, the problem isn't the film, but him. He personally prefers animal documentaries and other related media. The only reason he's sitting here, smushed into the couch and arm slowly succumbing to numbness due to how long Eijun has been leaning on it, is because Eijun is patient enough to entertain his peculiar interests. It's only right that he extends the same courtesy to his boyfriend, no matter how much romance movies made him want to sleep.
However, it seems he has severely overestimated the depths of his patience. It's not like Satoru is trying to be rude, but he's bored, so he does little things to keep himself entertained. He fidgets in place, reaffirming his grip on Eijun's shoulders in an attempt to gain feeling back in his arm. He wipes his palm on his sweats. He fiddles with the hair on Eijun's nape. He runs his left hand over Eijun's forearm.
This isn't working, Satoru thinks glumly. All he's succeeded in doing is receiving intense glares whenever he moves a muscle. He sighs, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling. It's when his eyelids start to droop that Eijun shoots upward, his face almost knocking into Satoru's.
"What the…?" Satoru wearily opens his eyes, just barely escaping facial collision.
"Satoru, I'm going to the bathroom! Let me know when the commercial ends!" Eijun all but hollers, already racing down the hallway and slamming the door shut behind him.
Satoru wonders why Eijun simply hadn't gone during previous commercial breaks, but the thought is swiftly disregarded. Eijun can be quite enigmatic when he wants to be, and it's done Satoru more good to just let things be. Questioning Eijun's antics only succeeds to bring easily preventable headaches.
Eijun arrives just as loudly as he's departed, jumping over the back of the couch and crashing into the cushions, his foot narrowly missing Satoru's head by an inch. "I'm back! Did you miss me?" he asks, cheeky, as he adjusts his position on the cushions.
"You almost kicked me," Satoru says, but still accepting Eijun into his arms.
Eijun's laugh is boisterous, easily bringing a small smile to Satoru's mouth. "Haha, sorry, sorry! I'll make it up to you later."
"You better," Satoru grumbles, though the complaint goes unnoticed as Eijun climbs into his lap, stray hairs threatening to fly into his mouth. "Eijun, what—"
Eijun finally settles down in between Satoru's spread thighs, his knees bent, ankles crossed, and back plastered to Satoru's chest. He takes Satoru's arms and wrap them around his waist, directing Satoru into clasping his hands over Eijun's stomach. Eijun places his own hands over Satoru's folded ones, looking up at Satoru with a blinding grin.
"Comfortable?"
Satoru stares at him, wide-eyed. "Yes…"
Eijun shoots him another smile before redirecting his attention back to the television. His grin falls when he notices the film has already resumed playing. "Aw, what did I miss? Satoru, this is all your fault!"
"That's what you deserve." Satoru chuckles lowly, his breath wafting over Eijun's ear, and he's acutely aware of the stiffening of Eijun's shoulders as he speaks. He mentally files the reaction but doesn't say anything else, opting to lean back against the couch instead.
Eijun strangely doesn't retort, resolutely keeping his eyes on the screen. The tips of his ears are reddening as he mutters, "Stupid Satoru."
Silence blankets over them after that, once again leaving Satoru to his boredom. His brief skirmish with Eijun was infinitely more entertaining than this and he laments how quickly it had passed. He's sure if he brings it up, Eijun would scramble to amend the issue, but he promised his boyfriend he'd watch this movie with him, especially since they didn't spend any time together after being separated for a week during Satoru's away game.
Sighing, Satoru lets his head fall back, his dark hair dangling over the back of the couch. Though he did promise he would watch the movie with Eijun, he never said anything about paying attention. With that in mind, he dozes off, his hold on Eijun's waist slackening.
His dream of fishing with polar bears is rudely interrupted when Eijun's body shakes against him. Satoru cracks an eye open, noting the tremble in Eijun's shoulders and the surreptitious swiping of pink cheeks.
Concerned, Satoru leans forward, fully awake. Putting his chin on Eijun's left shoulder, he asks, "What's wrong?"
Eijun sniffles, his wet sleeves rubbing furiously at the skin under his eyes. His mouth releases only a string of garbled noises, lacking any coherency. Satoru frowns, tightening his arm around Eijun's waist and bringing up his free hand to gently pry Eijun's fingers from his face.
"He—" Eijun hiccups, eyes rimmed red and gold eyes shiny with tears. "He died!"
He breaks into another fit of sobs, and Satoru has to simmer his exasperation. Only Eijun would waste so much energy mourning the death of a fictional person, but he doesn't voice this. He may not understand most of Eijun's interests, but he knows better than to lord it over Eijun.
"That's terrible," Satoru says, inwardly cringing at how unsympathetic he sounded. "But if you keep crying, you'll miss the rest of the movie. Save your tears until then."
"Yeah, you're right," Eijun says, nose wrinkling. "There can still be a happy ending!" he chirps, pumping his fist into the air.
Satoru watches him, his mouth curling fondly. "Are you okay now?"
"Yup! Thanks Satoru!" Eijun flashes him a grin, blinding in its intensity despite the splotchy pink painting his cheeks and the tear tracks running down his face. The sight made Satoru's heart beat a bit faster, and he grips at his shirt where it covers the overexcited organ.
"All right," Satoru says, his throat constricting all of a sudden. Why is he feeling so hot?
It's when Eijun starts bawling again just a few minutes later that it hits Satoru like a freight train. The heat crawling down his spine after witnessing Eijun's tearful face. The tingles in his fingers when he brushed away the liquid leaking from Eijun's gold eyes. The tightening of his pants when Eijun lets out a heartfelt sob at the conflict onscreen.
Ah, he thinks, the despair finally settling over him.
He fidgets at the realization, his hands going clammy. His movement does nothing but spur Eijun's own squirming, who ends up nestling even further into Satoru's lap. Satoru bites his lower lip to prevent a groan from spilling out as Eijun sits squarely above his crotch, already half-hard.
Satoru really hates himself right now. Of all the things to be hot and bothered by, it just had to be Eijun crying. And why did he have to come to that epiphany now, of all times? Eijun has cried in front of him plenty of times before, what's so different now—
He lets out a choked gasp when Eijun scoots backwards, the movement allowing Eijun's behind to brush against his growing erection. Satoru grits his teeth, stifling his noises as his hands grapple at Eijun's hips in an attempt to still him. "Stop moving. It's annoying."
"Sorry!" Eijun says, apologetic as he looks over his shoulder. He squeaks at the hard furrow of Satoru's brows, inching away. The presence of tears beading at the corner of his eyes do little to ameliorate Satoru's dilemma. "W-Why are you so mad?!"
"It's nothing," Satoru says, mouth pulled into a taut line. "Please stay still."
"Yes, of course." Eijun turns away again, tension bleeding out of his frame as his attention returns to the drama unfolding on their television screen.
Satoru soon comes to regret taking Eijun for his word.
Not even a few minutes pass before Eijun is moving in his lap again, loudly displaying his emotions as he laughs one second and cries the next. It feels like punishment as the swell of Eijun's ass keeps brushing over Satoru's aching arousal, and it doesn't take long until Satoru is at peak hardness, the tent obvious in his gray sweats.
Eijun keeps shifting atop his lap, twisting and turning, entirely oblivious to Satoru's turmoil, and Satoru isn't sure if that trait of his is a blessing or a curse. Something funny must have appeared on screen because Eijun cackles, his weight unintentionally redistributing so that Satoru's chest takes the brunt of it and his legs spread wide, the back of his knees hooking over the outer edges of Satoru's thighs.
It takes great effort for Satoru to wrench back a pathetic whimper from witnessing the shameless display, his cock jumping for attention as Eijun's bottom ghosts over it. His grip on Eijun's hips grows unwittingly tighter, making Eijun yelp and crane his neck to fix Satoru a glare, the heat behind it nonexistent when coupled with Eijun's pouty pink lips.
The reaction sparks a line of thrill up Satoru's spine, igniting a dangerous trail of thought. Satoru hides his smile in Eijun's nape as his hand releases its hold on Eijun's hip to settle over Eijun's stomach, the touch fleeting and innocent. When Eijun doesn't react, his hand gets bolder, palm sliding under the hem of Eijun's tee to map a path up his sternum. Eijun's breath hitches and Satoru buries his smirk into the bend of Eijun's neck.
If he's suffering, then it's only right he split the pain.
He doesn't make any other moves, opting to let his hand hover Eijun's chest, right where Eijun's fluttering pulse resounds hardest. Satoru imagines the gesture might have seemed borderline threatening in Eijun's eyes, but he can't muster any sympathy. This is what Eijun deserves.
Satoru keeps that position, resting his mouth on the curve of Eijun's throat as he bides his time. Once he's convinced that Eijun's attention has begun to wane, becoming immersed in the film yet again, Satoru pounces. He partly opens his mouth to release a chilled exhale over Eijun's nape, watching with rapt attentiveness as the skin instantly shudders in anticipation. His tongue pokes out to flick against the skin, and Satoru's smile is small but cheeky when Eijun gasps.
Eijun's hands fly to Satoru's forearms, saying, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Nothing," Satoru replies innocently, his breath wafting over the back of Eijun's neck.
"Your hand is up my shirt!" Eijun sputters, his cheeks flushing an endearing red.
Satoru shrugs. "My hands are cold."
Eijun levels Satoru a skeptical look over his shoulder, clearly wanting to say more, but seemingly decided against it. His eyes glide back to the movie, but his frame is tense, undoubtedly expecting another attack.
Well, Satoru would hate to disappoint. Mischief rushes through him as he presses soft kisses to the tan column of Eijun's throat, his mouth attending to every stretch of skin available. He smothers a laugh when Eijun's back straightens instantly, putting space between himself and Satoru.
Satoru doesn't bother with timing his strikes at intervals anymore, now intent on not allowing Eijun a single moment of reprieve. Satoru licks a long stripe up Eijun's neck, tongue lingering at the skin under Eijun's left ear. He closes his teeth around the lobe, tugging at it while his hand slides up Eijun's chest to tease a nipple.
Eijun moans, his nails digging into the muscle of Satoru's forearm, which in turn tightens around his waist, pulling his back flush against Satoru's chest. He valiantly attempts to keep his eyes on the movie, ultimately proving to be futile as his attention is drawn to the heat thrumming through him. He squeezes his thighs together, knees knocking, as Satoru nips and suckles at his ear, moaning as a sly hand insistently twists his nipple until he can see it poke through his thin tee.
"Ah—Satoru, t-the movie!" Eijun whines, back arcing as Satoru pinches his nipple in a manner just shy of being painful. His lower lip stings from how hard he's biting it, trying to keep embarrassing noises from spilling out.
"Nothing's stopping you from watching it," Satoru says, his usually steady voice a touch too gleeful. Eijun gets the distinct feeling he's toeing a dangerous line here.
"There really is!"
"Don't mind me," Satoru says, lips brushing Eijun's ear, his voice a low, infuriatingly attractive timbre. "The movie's still playing."
"You're such a bastard—!" Eijun's complaint tapers into an airy moan as Satoru's tongue flicks at the ridges of his ear. Teeth pull at his lobe again, yanking it softly before the cartilage is released and laved at with the broad of Satoru's tongue. Eijun is ashamed of the pleased sigh tumbling from his mouth as Satoru licks and bites his ear, feeling like he's losing a competition he didn't remember signing up for.
His pulse jumps to his throat when Satoru roughly palms at the tent in his shorts, snapping him out of his haze. He whines, pitched and greedy, as he cants his hips upward, desperate for more friction. His head lolls back onto Satoru's shoulder as Satoru presses his palm more firmly, eyelids slipping close and exposing his neck for Satoru's eager mouth to ravage.
"Oh?" Satoru whispers, his tone making Eijun's gut surge with arousal. "What about the movie?"
Eijun whines when Satoru's hand pulls away just a fraction, his hips reflexively inching forward in search of stimulation. Satoru riles him up, distracts him from the movie, and is now punishing him for not paying attention? Of course the movie is the last thing on his mind now!
"You've wanted to watch it for a while now," Satoru continues, fingers tapping an erratic rhythm on Eijun's stomach. The hand playing with his chest stills, the flat of Satoru's palm resting on a hardened nub. The touch is light, but it exerts enough pressure to make Eijun's breath watery.
Eijun's patience snaps, tears of frustration leaking from his sore eyes. "I don't care about it anymore! I want you now!"
A stunned silence follows his exclamation, and Eijun is half-convinced that Satoru might have fallen asleep in that span of time. He turns his head to confirm and he almost whimpers at the dark, unreadable look crossing Satoru's handsome features.
"Is that so," Satoru whispers, so softly that it gives Eijun the impression he hadn't meant to say it aloud. His eyes narrow, the dangerous glint in his gray eyes astoundingly visible despite the darkness, and Eijun is getting the unmistakable feeling he's not going to escape this ordeal with his dignity intact.
Surprisingly, Satoru's hands withdraw, leaving Eijun's body to ache in its lonesome. He remains unmoving, his back rigid as he hears shuffling noises behind him. He hears something being uncapped, and the sound is deafening despite the television blaring.
Eijun doesn't get a chance to react—Satoru's mouth is back on his neck, lips and teeth mercilessly marking the skin until a blossoms a rich red, and a slick hand is shoved down his shorts and into his dark briefs, inelegant and callous. Eijun's keen is shameless, his hips quivering as Satoru fondles his hard arousal without a touch of grace, and yet it doesn't fail to leave Eijun a moaning, helpless mess, his back arcing as Satoru's thumb graces the head of his cock, smearing fluid as it begins to dribble from the tip.
Eijun's hands scramble for purchase as Satoru's touch scorches through him, nails finding anchorage in Satoru's forearms. In his delirium, Eijun somehow finds a second to appreciate the muscles rippling under the pale skin, flexing from effort and sweat rolling down the lines of tension in narrow streams that shimmer from the fluorescence of the television screen. Eijun is snapped out of his reverie when Satoru's palm slides over his dick while the other hand snakes up his chest, making Eijun's tee bunch up to his armpits. A light shiver passes through him when his nipples are exposed to the chill of the room, and Satoru wastes no time in latching onto one of the nubs, making Eijun mewl as he rolls it between a thumb and index finger.
"Satoru," Eijun says, elongating the last vowel before it pathetically breaks into a drawn out moan. "You are the biggest bastard alive—"
He's cut off when his nipple is tugged, harsh and unforgiving, but it makes his hips jump, arousal spiking from where it's gathered at the base of his spine. Normally, Eijun wouldn't take such humiliation, but Satoru's arm is firmly around his waist, a solid form lingering with promise. And dammit, it's not like Eijun would have escaped anyway because he's horny and it's all Satoru's fault! Despite the rage turmoiling in his head, all Eijun can manage is a helpless whine as Satoru's hand pumps his shaft, irregularly smearing sweat and lubricant across the flushed length.
Teeth sink into the bend of his throat, the unblemished skin denting under the force and Eijun moans, his hips bucking into Satoru's hand. His nails bury themselves deeper into the muscle of Satoru's forearms as a mouth suckles at his neck, wet lips and tongue persuading the slick skin into bruising. Eijun is too dazed with pleasure to scold Satoru for leaving marks at a place too difficult to cover up, and his cheeks burn with shame from how malleable he becomes when teased.
Satoru's hand continues to bob up and down, moving in tandem with the calloused fingers playing with Eijun's nipple. Eijun's back bends, mewling as he's pleasured on two ends. The motion makes his chest jut out, displaying his pebbled nubs for Satoru's ravenous gaze to rake upon. Satoru is seized by the urge to run his tongue over the rosy peaks, but he can't be bothered to move from his current position, so he runs the pad of his fingers over the flesh instead, roughly fondling it.
Satoru's name tumbles past Eijun's pretty lips in a reverent gasp, inspiring Satoru to pump his hand faster and he savors the pitched moan Eijun makes, the melodic sound lost amidst the words being relayed from the film. Eijun's grasp on Satoru's forearms slacken as he loses himself to ecstasy, grinding his hips into the solid form behind him. He gasps when something hard pokes his bottom, and he swivels his hips even faster, brushing against Satoru's erection with each roll.
"Eijun." Satoru growls into his neck, unintelligible, but it's music to Eijun's ears anyhow. The knowledge that he can wreck Satoru just as badly as Satoru does him makes his heart sing with unadulterated joy. In retaliation, the hand groping his chest skirts over his stomach to join the one handling his erection, thumb pressing against the flushed tip. Eijun squeals, his head snapping back onto Satoru's shoulder, cheeks dusting red.
"Satoru, I'm—" Eijun moans, eyes widening as Satoru gathers the fluid dribbling from the flushed head onto his fingers, generously coating the digits before inserting them into Eijun without warning. Eijun flinches, teeth digging into his lower lip to suppress a yowl. He scrunches his eyes close as the long fingers enter him inch by excruciating inch, sending sparks of sensation up his arced spine. It doesn't take long for Eijun to adjust to the intrusion, having already gone through the motions countless times, and within minutes, he's panting and whining and grinding, legs spread wide open as he wills Satoru's fingers to sink deeper.
The wet slide of Satoru's fingers as they press against his boiling insides push Eijun to the brink, and the sensation combined with the hard palm pumping his dick is maddening. With a few more pumps, Eijun is driven over the precipice, back bending and head snapping back as he finishes in Satoru's hand with a guttural cry. He flops onto Satoru's chest, boneless, his vision fizzling as he drops back from his high.
"Heavy," Satoru says, removing his soiled hands from the confines of Eijun's underwear.
"This is all your fault," Eijun grumbles, rolling off Satoru so that the other could wash his hands. When he looks up, his eyes widen at the end credits rolling up the screen.
"It's over?!" he screeches, shooting up to his feet, mindless of his shorts riding low on his hips.
Satoru comes back with a tissue in his hands, wiping at the spaces between his fingers. "Oh, that's too bad."
"Come off it," Eijun says, crossing his arms as he plops back down onto the couch. "You don't care at all."
"That's not true," Satoru says, tossing the dirtied tissue into the trash. It was true, but Eijun didn't need to know that.
Eijun glares at him, childishly sticking his tongue out, and Satoru has half a mind to tell Eijun just exactly how he could put that tongue to use.
"If it's any consolation," Satoru starts, rounding the couch to crawl over Eijun's sprawled form. "We can continue without interruption now."
Eijun huffs, but makes no attempt to push Satoru away. "You were the one doing all the interrupting, you bastard. What started all that, anyway?"
Satoru blushes, mouth curling in distaste as he shyly averts Eijun's questioning gaze. He settles on saying, "Don't worry about it."
Eijun raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Satoru finds the nerve to stare back, adamant on remaining quiet.
He belated realizes looking at Eijun's face is a terrible idea, a fresh wave of desire flooding him as he notes the dry tear tracks coating Eijun's cheeks. It's laughable how quickly his will crumbles.
"Well?" Eijun prompts, hands moving to Satoru's biceps.
In lieu of a proper answer, he ducks his head, honing in on Eijun's throat as his teeth find purchase on the juncture between Eijun's neck and shoulder. Eijun instinctively cranes his neck, sighing, giving Satoru more skin to latch onto.
"I'm going to give you something to cry about."
back at it again with closing fic with dialogue.
as always, apologies for any mistakes and thanks for reading! [finger guns]