Disclaimer: Free! Itowabi Swim Club does not belong to me. Sadness.
A/N: I can't seem to stop flooding my account with HaruMakoto feels, so I'm just indulging them. Because hey, why not. Also. I may or may not have found and thus been inspired by the kink meme. /cough
Warnings: Yaoi, boylovin', semi-public sex, and gags (consensual). Yeah.
Prompt: Like the subject says. Makoto has a really, really hard time keeping calm and quiet when he and Haru are going at it. Panting, whimpering, groaning, gasping his name over and over so much it's ridiculous, etc. He knows he does it, he just can't help it, even when he tries. So one time Haru takes his tie and gags him with it (consensually).
••∞• You Know You Make Me Wanna- •∞••
Sex with Makoto is anything but boring.
Quite the opposite, in Haru's opinion, because Makoto could never be boring—not like nearly everyone else he knows; Makoto's always been special that way.
There had never been any question, in Haru's mind (and he likes to think the same went for Makoto) that they'd grow from childhood friends, to boyfriends, to lovers; it was only a matter of time.
Because they've always been comfortable holding hands, at home and walking both to and fro school. They've always shared food—feeding each other or stealing from the other's plate—never had any qualms about sharing candy in a kiss (no matter how much it grossed Rin and Nagisa out), and have always slept in the same bed, even when it means tangling together in order to fit.
Everything and yet nothing changes about three months ago, when Haru kisses Makoto one hot, sleepy summer's day while they're sprawled out on his back porch, waiting for the occasional, merciful ocean breeze to roll by.
Haru turns his head slightly to gaze over to his friend, when his eyes are drawn to Makoto's tongue, as it peeks out to wet his lips every so often while he chatters on and on about every ridiculous thing he can imagine, if only to deter their thoughts from the heat.
He watches, fascinated, as it flicks out in a pink flash again and again, until he decides that he'd very much like to taste those lips himself – right now, from now on, whenever he damn well wants to – and so he rolls onto his stomach, stretching out languidly, not unlike a cat before he crawls over to Makoto, interrupting Makoto's slightly delirious, one-sided conversation as he leans over him, casting his shadow over Makoto's flushed face, where his eyes are closed against the brunt of the blazing sun.
He waits for Makoto to slowly blink his big, green eyes open, stares at his lips when they slowly curve into a smile as he looks up at him—and Haru makes sure to give him plenty of time to react, to realize exactly what he's doing before pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. Makoto simply sighs against his lips as he kisses back, perfectly content —and that's that.
To this day, Nagisa and Kou still haven't decided whether or not their story is romantic enough or not; but that doesn't matter, because Makoto is Haru's, and that's that.
In the months since, they've been slowly but steadily doing more than just kissing, and lately, it's been the only thing that Haru can think about.
Unfortunately, they don't have all day to explore anymore, to take as much sweet time as they want taking their relationship further, because now they're back in school and junior year is throwing more work at them than ever.
And while Haru never usually minds doing his homework, now he knows that there's far more interesting things to do besides just swimming, though up until now, he would have never believed it.
Which is where his second misfortune comes into play.
Makoto has, accordingly, taken to studying harder than ever in order to keep up with the school's increasingly cruel regimen—even attending cram school, on his mother's suggestion, much to Haru's chagrin.
Between school, swim practice, cram school, homework and studying—Haru is finding that there is worryingly little time for them to spend together that isn't occasionally sleeping together.
And he means sleep as in sleep.
Classes, homework, studying—these are all things that Haru would much rather give up in favor of spending time with his best friend, but knows are too important for Makoto to give up. Not with how hard he's working to keep his grades up so he has a good shot at the university of his choice in just a few years.
Haru doesn't even want to begin to think about that.
It only drives Haru harder to come up with ways to make time now.
Which is how Haru finds himself staring intently at the back of Makoto's head in third period, where he would usually be spending the time staring out longingly towards the pool—wondering how he can get a little bit of time in with Makoto, today, because otherwise he thinks he may snap.
Despite his determination to cover all his options, weighing the pros and cons of simply throwing Makoto down when they pass his home and forcing the thoughts of any assignments due the next day from his mind only leads his thoughts to take a sharp turn elsewhere; and suddenly Haru finds himself running through a mental list of all the ways he can make Makoto's toes curl instead of calculating how much time they would have before Makoto's mother notices something is amiss.
"-ru? Haru-chan!"
"Mm?" Haru snaps back to himself, only to find himself looking straight back into Makoto's amused green eyes – where he's turned around in his chair to stare at him.
"You didn't listen to a single word Ama-chan said, did you?" Makoto sighs in exasperation, but he's smiling fondly, and all Haru can seem to care about is that he finally has Makoto's attention.
"That's alright," Makoto grins, shuffling his notes together to pack neatly into his backpack—Haru glances around, only to notice that they're the only ones left in the classroom—"you can copy my notes later—you've been out of it all day, Haru-chan!"
But even Makoto's words are muffled and far off, as an idea slowly but steadily pieces itself together—and Haru cocks his head, straining to listen not to Makoto, but for anything else.
Sure enough, he can hear the chatter and squeaking footfalls echoing further and further away down the halls as students find their respective niches for lunch.
"Haru?"
It was a beautiful day—the first clear day in nearly a week of steel-grey clouds and the overhanging threat of rain.
Everyone would be itching to eat outside.
"Haru-chan?"
No one should be back for a while.
"Haru, are you feeling okay?" The worried tone brings Haru back to himself once more, and he blinks at Makoto, startled to find that his gentle giant of a friend is suddenly beside him, leaning down so that they're level with each other and Haru's face softens at how Makoto's brow is pinched in concern.
"Fine, Makoto," Haru says distractedly, before a slow smile spreads across his lips. "More than fine, actually," he adds to Makoto's rising confusion, before he's grabbed Makoto by his shirt to pull him into a hot, demanding kiss, startling a half yell, half moan from his boyfriend.
"Hngh, ngh—hah….Haru," Makoto gasps as he finally, reluctantly pulls away—and Haru preens inwardly at the way Makoto's chest is heaving and his cheeks are flushed pink in a mix of embarrassment and pleasure, and at the way Makoto keeps licking his lips as if unconsciously savoring the lingering taste. "Haru, we're at school, th-this really isn't th-the time…"
But while Haru's always been able to read Makoto like an open book, he doesn't even need to be a Makoto-expert to hear the longing in Makoto's voice, mixed with frustrated desperation that is mirrored on his face as Makoto reaches to surreptitiously adjust himself.
"But we have time," Haru points out, and Makoto blinks at him before his eyes widen and his cheeks flush scarlet.
"W-what-y-you mean like here? N-now?" Makoto whispers, his voice cracking in a squeak on the last word, and he stumbles back as Haru slowly rises from his chair—backing up nervously (though his chest starts heaving, anticipation written all over his face) until he stumbles back over his desk, grabbing the edges for support when Haru presses up against him, smirking.
"B-bu-but Haru-chan," Makoto gulps, eyes wide and blown as he struggles to fight his impulse to melt into his boyfriend's touch as Haru pins him against the desk. His lips move wordlessly for a moment before he manages to find his voice again, his one argument weakly slipping out, "What if someone sees us?"
Haru considers the validity of Makoto's statement – because it's true.
Really, what kind of boyfriend would he be to get Makoto into that kind of trouble? What would it do to his standing – both their standings – to get caught like this? How awful of him would it be, to willingly put Makoto in such a vulnerable position – bent over his desk, pants down, gasping, and flushed with desperattion and need?
His resolve never stands a chance.
Rather, it crumbles, keels over and dies a fast, painless death as Haru decides that damnit, this is happening.
"Haru-" is all that Makoto has the time to gasp before his boyfriend crashes their mouths together, and his lift his arms to wrap around Haru's neck for support, lips trembling beneath Haru's. His green eyes slip helplessly closed, and a low keen rises in his throat as he kisses just as eagerly back, the initial hesitation giving way to want—and goddamn if it doesn't feel amazing; has it really been so long since they've had the time for this?
They melt together as they kiss madly, deeply, desperately – yet they both have their ears pricked the whole time to hear anyone approaching.
It's both nerve wracking and hotter than hell – way more than either of them were expecting.
"God, Haru," Makoto whispers, as they finally break apart, slowly drawing back – and Haru admire Makoto's debauched face—the way his eyes are cloudy with want, and his cheeks are prettily flushed and his lips are decidedly red and kiss-swollen; he watches in interest as a thin, silver thread of saliva breaks from where their mouths were connected only to spatter against Makoto's lower lip.
It makes Haru want him more than can bear, and he's not going to wait any longer to have Makoto just the way he's been thinking about all day.
"Ha-ngh! Haru, w-what are you d-" Makoto protests weakly as Haru sinks gracefully down to his knees, making quick work of his belt before moving on to the zip of his pants.
"I want you. I want to have you, I want to taste you. Now," Haru replies easily, inwardly relishing the way Makoto's breath draws in sharply at his words. He's blunt – always has been – and that doesn't change even when they're intimate; telling Makoto what he wants, precisely how he feels, and never hesitating to tell Makoto just what he wants to do to him.
It never fails to reduce Makoto to an adorably flustered, pliant mess, and it doesn't fail now –Haru has to steady his best friend as his knees buckle and threaten to give out from under him.
Haru sighs softly as he drops Makoto's pants to the floor and he rubs his cheek gently against the not-so-subtle bulge beneath Makoto's boxers, humming his pleasure softly, just a little, because god, it's really been too long.
"Haru!" Makoto whimpers, slapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes snap tightly shut when Haru mouths wetly at the thin cloth, just over the tip, and he really doesn't think his face can get any redder. "Ha—haanh, H-Haru..!"
Haru smirks slightly to himself, hiding his expression as he leans in to rest his head against Makoto's hipbone while he slowly tugs Makoto's underwear down and over his erection, which bobs up to press against his lower belly, standing proud and flushed against his smooth, olive skin. Makoto lets out another little whimper, but he determinedly keeps his eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed to meet Haru's gaze.
That's simply not something Haru will stand for.
"Makoto," Haru murmurs softly – and a shudder runs through the brunet's entire body from head to toe at Haru's soft-spoken voice; but he hears the gentle but firm demand, and ever so slowly he shyly opens his eyes to meet Haru's gaze, and Haru's own breath catches at how dark and far-gone Makoto's usually bright eyes have gone.
"You're beautiful," Haru says quietly, and Makoto's face burns darker, if possible – yet a small, tremulous smile touches his lips to Haru's delight.
"May I?" he asks, tilting his head imploringly as he looks up at Makoto, who lets out a shattered sounding little laugh.
"Silly," he breathes, eyes smiling down at his lower, "you were gonna do it whether I said so or not," but still he nods, still chuckling breathlessly to himself, his breath hitching loudly as Haru makes a face at him that says no I wouldn't except maybe I kinda would.
But Haru's satisfied, because Makoto said it was okay, said it for sure, and without further ado he leans in and licks a long, hot wet stripe up the underside of Makoto's erection.
Now, Haru just forgets One Very Important Detail.
Makoto – his beautiful, sweet, gentle soft-spoken Makoto – is impossibly loud in bed. He pants, he whimpers, he groansmoansgasps his name whenever they get anywhere further than kissing; and while it's the biggest turn-on in Haru's life, right now, it's simply not going to do.
"Makoto, quiet," Haru mumbles calmly where he's licking along Makoto's cock, "Someone's gonna hear."
"I-I'm—hah —ngh, t-trying—ohgod, Haru, I a-am," Makoto wails softly, and sure enough when Haru glances up, his boyfriend has his knuckles shoved into his mouth and he's biting down hard from the looks of it, he's gazing down with hazy, helpless eyes.
Haru gives another experimental lick, lapping shamelessly at Makoto's slit before sucking the head into his mouth. A shudder races down his spine as Makoto nearly screams into his hand, followed by an incoherent rush of whimpers and pleas.
The raven-haired teen pulls back with a pensive hum, sitting back on his knees and pondering the best course of action to take while he gives Makoto a break, who slumps back against the desk panting for breath, knuckles bone white where they're clutching the sides of the desk for purchase.
"I-I'm so sorry, Haru," Makoto gasps, tears of frustration stinging his eyes, and Haru frowns a little and covers one of Makoto's hands with one of his own because he doesn't like the way Makoto's inwardly berating himself, written all over his face plain as day.
"I c-can't help it, I'm sorry, it just—you feel so good," he moans shakily, covering his face with his other hand the way he does when he'd like nothing more than to sink into the floor.
"Maybe…" Haru's head snaps up, eyes widening a little as Makoto speaks up again. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all, Haru," he mutters, running his hand through his hair –and now that it's no longer hiding his face, Haru can seethe guilty resignation all over his face, mixed with immense disappointment.
Which is what makes Haru's mind up for him.
Because if there's one thing Haru refuses to stand for—more than seeing him sad, scared or even angry, it's seeing Makoto disappointed. While the other emotions are beyond his control, Haru can always, always strive to keep Makoto from disappointment.
Haru is up and on his feet before he even realizes it – the distant gasp of surprise he startles from Makoto's lips the only indicator that tells him he's doing it.
So he glances at the clock, notes that they still have a good half an hour, and he starts undoing his tie.
Makoto blinks uncertainly, licking his lips as Haru veritably tears the accessory off. "Haru…?" he asks dubiously, his eyes widening when the other teen finally succeeds in ripping it off his neck, holding it up to him like a trophy.
"We can use this," Haru declares, before raising it up to wrap around Makoto's mouth, smirking at the muffled squawk Makoto gives.
He watches as understanding dawns in Makoto's brilliant green eyes, when the sound is barely audible.
"Is this okay?" Haru asks sternly, searching Makoto's gaze carefully; because while he desperately wants Makoto (and a not so small part of him is screaming about how hot this is) he's not about to take any chance and do something that's way out of Makoto's comfort zone.
But Makoto, brilliant, amazing, perfect Makoto just rapidly nods his assent as eagerly as Haru feels, his eyes burning with want even as he shyly reaches out to unbutton his boyfriend's shirt, tracing his fingertips adorningly over each precious little bit of sin as it is exposed.
Any of Haru's remaining patience dies a sudden, violent death as he shudders into the touch, leaning in and hiding the stupid face he feels he's making against the long, slender column of Makoto's neck, before turning his attention to far more important things and staring a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his throat.
Makoto arches into his mouth, eyes fluttering madly as he breathes in short pants through his mouth, but any other sounds are effectively and impressively muffled by the makeshift gag, to their delight, and Haru decides to take that as a challenge.
"God, Makoto," Haru murmurs against his boyfriend's skin, loving the way he's trembling beneath his ministrations, and his mind already races ahead to how much more he can make his lover react, with what he'd got planned for the twenty something more minutes they have. "You're so hot like this. We should try this at home, later. Maybe use your tie, too, for your hands."
The tease he whispers to Makoto against his throat is enough to make hisears burn red at the thought of it, and Haru briefly wonders for the millionth time how he ended up with such a cute boyfriend – before returning his undivided attention to falling back to his knees to resume what he'd started.
He takes Makoto deep into his mouth in one fluid motion, shamelessly holding his lover's gaze as he starts sucking him off, falling into a fast, unforgiving rhythm that makes Makoto's hands scramble pleasantly against the desk for purchase, if the way his nails scratch against the surface is any indication.
Moans, pleas and cries flow freely from Makoto's mouth in a seemingly unending stream of sound—the words and any chance for coherency stemmed by the tie shoved in his mouth, but the desperation and need of his tone nowhere near hidden.
Haru puts his all into getting Makoto off, ignoring the way his own cock strains painfully against the seam of his pants as he licks, sucks and works his boyfriend's cock in his mouth just the way he knows Makoto likes it—driving him crazy with need and refusing to stop to give him any reprieve from the constant onslaught of pleasure.
It doesn't take long to bring Makoto to the edge, and he's desperately bucking his hips as he comes with a shrill, sobbing sound as Haru greedily swallows him down, continuing to work him all the way through his orgasm until his boyfriend melt back against his desk in a boneless heap, chest heaving as he struggles for breath, breathing harshly through his nose.
Haru doesn't waste any time, gathering himself up to his feet to quickly undo his own pants, barely biting back an impatient swear as his belt foils his plan to shove them down as quickly as possible, and he takes a moment to rip the offending accessory open with a little more force than necessary, before returning to the suddenly imperative task of getting his pants off.
He gasps sharply as he wraps his fingers around his own cock, and has to press the back of his other hand over his mouth to stifle the sound as he jerks himself off to the gorgeous sight of Makoto sprawled out beneath him, his shirt just barely sticking to him, flushed flatteringly and gazing up at him like he's never seen a prettier sight.
And god, god does Haru want to fuck him, hard and fast and right now – but he's not about to make Makoto sit through the rest of school and then stutter his way out of practice because he's sore and dirty and aching—
Haru groans into his hand as his eyes flutter closed at that unfairly arousing thought, and nearly buckles over when Makoto's hand joins his, and he looks up to see Makoto smiling breathlessly up at him, gag loosened to hang loosely around his neck as he helps get Haru off.
"Love you, Haru," he whispers, words full of love and warmth and so much feeling, "Haru, Haru-"
And that's all it takes for Haru's own orgasm to crash over him, and he curls in tightly on himself, shuddering as he scrambles to cup his other hand over his cock in time, doing it best to catch the mess in his palm and nearly biting through his lip to smother the low, drawn out moan of Makoto's name; until finally, after what feels like a lifetime and yet far too soon, he stops coming.
It's all Haru can do not to slump forward against Makoto to catch his breath, instead forcing himself to weakly stumble back with what little energy and resolve he has left to fall into his own chair, sprawling out as he gasps breathlessly, waiting for the world to stop slipping pleasantly in and out of focus.
"Here—" Haru blinks as a bunch of napkins are shoved into his hand, and he starts cleaning his palm almost mechanically, glancing around for their origin in dazed confusion-until his eyes are drawn to Makoto's bag and bento, sitting innocently on top his desk.
"From my lunch pack," Makoto explains helpfully at Haru's silent question, and he smiles at him, tucking a strand of Haru's hair fondly back behind his ear.
His eyes sparkle adoringly at him even as he busies himself fussing over his uniform, brushing out the wrinkles of his shirt and pants, which are, miraculously, back in their proper place.
As are his own, Haru realizes belatedly with a start, blinking down faintly where his own clothes have been impeccably fastened and straightened out.
"You kinda spaced for a minute there," Makoto says not unkindly, "I just helped you out a little." He trails off into a soft sigh, staring down distractedly, a little helplessly, at something he's wringing in his hands.
His tie, Haru realizes.
Makoto hesitates before holding it out for him, and Haru's uncertain whether the brunette looks more apologetic, embarrassed, or amused. "I think this is pretty much a lost cause for now, Haru-chan," he chuckles, blushing but smiling.
Haru shakes his head, smiling helplessly. "I don't care," he says honestly, "I'd do that again in a heartbeat."
Makoto's flush darkens, but he looks immeasurably pleased for a fraction of a second—until his eyes widen suddenly and the smile drops off his face with the slam of not-so-distant door, which is promptly followed by voices bouncing animatedly down the halls.
"Haru—" Makoto hisses, scrambling to get into his seat and shoving his bento back away into his bag in a panic, "Haru—class starts in less than five minutes-!"
"It's fine, we're fine, Makoto," Haru replies mildly, finally snapping back to complete clarity. "We're fine. You look fine, I look fine—it's all fine."
Makoto's shoulders slump in relief at Haru's blasé tone, but the deer-in-the-headlights doesn't fully leave his expression until everyone's seated, and chatting amicably amongst themselves until the teacher walks in, kindly telling everyone to settle down. Oh so slowly, as classes progress as normal, and Makoto finally realizes that they aren't, in fact, screaming a broadcast of we just had sex and are, in fact just fine.
Well, maybe not just fine, Haru decides contentedly, smiling faintly at the back of Makoto's head for the rest of class. He's definitely more than fine.
Though his and Makoto's stomachs do growl loudly for the rest of classes, much to everyone's amusement and Makoto's mortification.
But, Haru supposes, if Makoto's reluctant smile is anything to go by, he's just as fine with it.
••∞• Owari •∞••
A/N: So I just thought I'd share that I absolutely shamelessly wrote this while sitting in a busy little café by my apartment, surrounded by customers, while drinking my cup of tea and sitting by the window. Apparently, this is my hubby-wife's dream come true, so I'm dedicating this to you, samurai . flo, because I admire your dream, and I may not be either Jensen, Jared, or a male stripper, but I'll be your barista lover any day.
Please Read and Review~