"WHAT THE FUCK HARU!?"
"AH JESUS! SORRY SORRY, SHIT!" Haru slapped his hands over his face, practically hitting himself with the bottle of wine as he ducked back behind the doorway.
"YOU SAID YOU WOULD HAVE TO PICK HIM UP, MAKOTO! WHY IS HE HERE!?"
"I don't—fuck, get your pants. Haru I'm so sorry!"
"Why are you apologizing to him! He's the one—"
"Kisumi, oh my god shut up. Put your goddamn pants on!"
"Where the fuck are they!? I don't think they're even in here!
"Well where else could they be!? You literally just had them on!"
"It's not my fault you were a little too excit—"
"Yes it is your fault! You wouldn't stop touching me!"
Haru leaned against the kitchen wall with his hand clasped firmly over his mouth to muffle the hysterical laughter that threatened to spill past his lips. I knew it, I fucking knew it. He thought triumphantly as he listened to the panicked whispers radiating from the other room. A very flustered Makoto dashed into the kitchen, eyes wild and face flushed with embarrassment and dissipating arousal.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry I didn't expect you to be home." Makoto sputtered as he tugged his shirt on.
"It's fine already, stop apologizing." Answered Haru, with as much indifference as he could muster. He blankly regarded his mortified friend as he took a drink from his bottle. "So how long has this been going on?" he asked, gesturing to the living room, a smirk threatening to shatter his veneer of vague disinterest.
"Umm well…" the taller man blushed deeper and rubbed the back of his neck, "this would have been the first—"
"Whoa, would have been? But," Haru narrowed his eyes, "you still have…" he tapped at his own bottom lip suggestively.
Makoto's hand flew to his face in horror, "What! How! I mean—he—I didn't—I wasn't—he was the one—um—"
Strangled laughter erupted from Haru as he doubled over, clutching his stomach. Makoto watched his friend literally vibrate with laughter and clutch the wall to steady himself.
"Okay okay stop stop I was kidding," he forced out before gasping for breath, "I just couldn't help myself. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your date." He wiped away a tear and pushed past a still very embarrassed Makoto, "I'll leave you guys alone. Hey Kisumi," he greeted the pink haired man who had hurriedly grabbed a blanket to cover himself. "I hope you guys are able to pick up where you left off!" He added, teasingly, crossing the living room to the hallway, "And NO MAKOTO," he said, anticipating his friend's words as he tried to chase after him, "we are NOT talking about my car tonight. By the way, Kisumi, your pants are in the foyer." He added with cackle as he slid into his bedroom and shut the door softly.
Haru's laughter almost immediately subsided as he paced the few steps to his bed.
He collapsed face first onto his comforter, his bottle of wine hanging languidly from his fingers off the side of the mattress. He was tired and annoyed, and he cringed internally as he recalled the vivid details of his humiliating evening. He sat up and took a long drink of the foul liquid.
I better not hear those two fucking.
He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, blinking rapidly at the bright screen in the darkness. The wine had already begun to work its magic, and Haru noticed a slight out-of-focus quality to his vision as he tapped the 'contacts' icon and scrolled through the list of names. He rolled his eyes when he reached the 'N's:
33~~~NAGISA~~~33
He tossed the phone aside and lifted the bottle to his lips again; three long sips later, he pulled the bottle from his mouth with a low pop. Licking the remnants off his reddened lips, he turned and set the nearly empty bottle on the hardwood floor.
He sat for a moment and contemplated his options for the remainder of the night, trying to pinpoint his mood now that he had successfully impaired his cognition just enough to where he found some respite from the day's irregularity. Swaying slightly, he opted to just let the night end and allowed his back to hit the mattress. A thought occurred to him and he collected his phone again, re-opening his contacts. His eyes stilled on the first name on the list:
Levi Ackerman. I haven't thought about you in a while.
He tossed his phone away again, wondering why it had been so long since he had heard—or even thought of— the name of the man who had ignited an all-encompassing fervor within him three years ago.
Haru had been obsessed.
Raw, unbridled lust had been a new concept to his 18 year-old virginal self, and he spent what felt like hours reveling in the way a two-word text from the man would blaze fire down his spine and cause his dick to twitch: "My office."
The beautiful, fuzzy warmth of the wine radiated through his chest and settled into the core of his abdomen. Haru closed his eyes and enjoyed the rare quiet that enveloped him; his now alcohol-addled mind wandered, and so did his hand, resting above the hem of his jeans that had ridden low as he slid himself up the bed to rest his head on the pillow. He ran his thumb lightly back and forth over the smooth skin on his hip, and he found himself recalling the electric feeling of Nagisa's warm hand on his own. The unwelcome feeling, of course.
An experiment. Did that even mean anything? I'm drunk. And how does he even know Levi? Hm, well that's stupid. They work in the same department, you dick. Ugh, that little shit called me a slut. I haven't even seen Levi in over a year, and it's not like I fucked anyone since then…or before. Well, maybe I am a little slutty…I mean, fuck, who sleeps with their professors? Mmmmm…I do. That's who. Especially when they look like—"
"Levi.." Haru moaned into the lightless room, sliding his hand down the front of his jeans to gingerly ghost his fingers over the rough fabric; the pressure just faint enough to tease his wine-induced half erection. He slipped his other hand under his t-shirt, imitating the delicate feather light touches he was applying to his clothed member. He actually couldn't remember the last time he pleasured himself; school had worn on him so severely that he would barely made it into the shower before dropping into bed, too exhausted to even think about his dick, let alone spend the time it would take to come up with a fantasy deserving of the arduous task of inevitable cleanup.
It wasn't like he was interested in anyone at the moment, either, which just exacerbated the pervasive boredom that had been tormenting him for months. For now, he was determined to enjoy the memories of fervid panting and the urgent groans that would tumble from his professor's impeccably sensuous mouth as he slid his hardened length into Haru's needy throat. He palmed his now-full erection through his pants, raising his hips involuntarily in search of more exquisite pressure.
He visualized the manner in which Levi would allow his piercing gaze to linger—just a second too long—on the student during lecture, and how the younger male would intentionally pack his books and writing materials slowly at the end of class, eyeing the man at the front of the room while the other students rushed out.
He popped the button open on his jeans as he recalled the moment when the last students would filter out, and the man would hastily stalk the length of the room before crushing the student's mouth to his in a desperate hunger.
He lowered his zipper as he remembered Levi's deft fingers working to first undo his belt, then the button, then his fly to allow him access to Haru's rapidly swelling arousal. He moaned softly as he gripped himself through his boxer briefs, allowing the memory of the man's fingers sliding into his wet mouth to spur him on, slipping his hand beneath the fabric to run the pad of his thumb over his wet slit.
He shuddered deliciously as he fought the urge to start stroking himself, instead opting to tease himself further to the thoughts of the wet sounds of a mouth on his cock. He made a loose circle with his fingers and thrust into them, his flesh just barely granting him the friction he greedily sought. Wine and lust swirled delectably through his blood, clouding his thoughts with a thick, smoldering haze while he envisioned an ardent tongue gliding painfully slow over his dripping tip, his fingers tangling into messy blond locks in ecstasy as his length is enveloped by full, sanguine lips.
Finally indulging in the euphoria of the fantasy, he curled his hand completely around his aching hardness, moaning hotly at the pressure and spreading his legs on the bed. His head lolled back onto the pillow as he pumped himself to the thought of pink eyes, heavy-lidded and black with lust, gazing up into his own desperate face; small, delicate hands, one gripping his thigh, the other wandering down between the owner's slender legs to relieve his own burgeoning need, rocking his hips into his palm as he moaned around the throbbing cock in his mouth.
Haru thumbed the moisture at his florid tip and spread it hastily down the side of his erection, desperate to simulate the feeling of a slick tongue coaxing him to his peak. He rolled his hips up into his hand, quickening the pace of his strokes as he felt an urgent tension rippling at the base of his cock. He imagined his length sliding out of a watering mouth with an obscene pop, a lithe figure crawling up his body to straddle his waist, heavy, lust-blown eyes locking with his own before swollen lips breathe humidly—desperately—into his ear, "please, Haru-chan."
Dizzy with want, he moaned loudly as he came—hot white ribbons painting his fingers and abdomen as he slung his arm over his mouth to muffle the cry begging to spill past his lips. His orgasm came in waves and shuddering gasps; his hips stuttering off the bed as he gripped his pulsing cock, still releasing hot beads of semen which melted like pearls on his stomach.
He rode out the last waves of his dissipating pleasure and finally stilled, removing his sticky fingers from his spent cock. After enjoying a few deep, stabilizing breaths, he reached through the dark to grope at his nightstand for his tissues. As his alcohol-hampered hand knocked the box to the floor, he wearily propped himself up on his elbows and cast a look of irritation towards the floor.
"Goddammit." He mumbled to the empty room and flopped back onto the pillow in frustration.
God-damn-it.