Title: Sticky Morning
Fandom: Tokumei Sentai Go-Busters
Character(s): Sakurada Hiromu, Iwasaki Ryuuji
Summary: Hiromu wakes up horny, hot, and sweaty. This needs to be rectified. JGV AU
Warning(s): PWP, straight up
Hiromu wakes up with a familiar itch in his gut that has him shifting and rolling over in bed in hopes of finding Ryuuji. Unfortunately, Hiromu remembers that Ryuuji is by habit an early bird and so when his hand smacks empty bed space he realizes that he’ll have to get up and make that short trek to the kitchen.
Another thing that Hiromu realizes once he throws the covers off is that it’s unbearably hot and his skin is unbearably sticky. He makes a face at that, because if there’s one thing about the intense heat is that it makes Ryuuji ten times crankier. He never did well in heat. He always was at his best during the winter when the crisp air nipped at his nose and Hiromu complained about having to put on too many layers.
This left Hiromu with a problem.
He’s incredibly horny, it’s incredibly hot, and Ryuuji will not be up for an early morning quickie because of the fact it’s incredibly hot. If Hiromu was a whiner (which he is when it came to the matters of the bedroom but not to the matters of the now) then he’d absolutely would make the most pitiful noise in the back of his throat just so Ryuuji will walk to him.
Hiromu is not a whiner.
He is a go-getter.
His feet press against the floor, startling Nick who had been sprawled out in hopes of trying to dispel heat. The orange tabby meowed pitifully, giving Hiromu and indignant look before darting off to some other place where he wouldn’t be disturbed. The red bow his sister had gifted them is sitting on the bedside table. It most likely had been taken off this morning by Ryuuji out of pity for Nick. After all, the bow looks like it’s made out of fake chiffon and ribbon and that has to be grueling for Nick who is covered in fur 24/7. Actually, Hiromu is just surprised that Nick even tolerates wearing it, but he thinks it’s because Nick (traitor cat) likes Rika more than he does Hiromu.
“Ryuu,” Hiromu says, stepping out of the bedroom in only his boxers, “why’s the AC off?”
He comes to the scene of Ryuuji hunched over the kitchen table, tablet on and a book propped open to the side. He’s frowning, brow furrowed, and is in a loose tank that shows off the muscled definition of his arm and incredibly loose track pants.
Hiromu feels his dick twitch in interest, and remembers that he’s on a mission. A mission to possibly be tossed over the table and fucked or maybe to at least get a hand job at the least but mostly he wants Ryuuji’s dick.
Even if a couple of days prior he took multiple dicks while filming one of their studio’s newest movies. None of them were Ryuuji’s, and as clichéd as it is to say Hiromu is absolutely sold on his dick (and other aspects such as his personality, intelligence, and okay there’s a laundry list of reasons but Hiromu’s horny and all he can care about at the current moment is getting Ryuuji’s dick in him).
“The unit broke, sorry?” Ryuuji offers up a weak grin. “Can you get the ice pack from the freezer?”
“Not your fault,” Hiromu tells him. He walks to their fridge, opening up the top door and pulling out the ice pack Ryuuji had requested and tossing it to him. He opens the bottom door for the jug of filtered water they keep there and going to grab a glass.
“It’s still a bit frustrating—if I had caught it in time then—“
And that’s the engineering part of Ryuuji going off right there. Hiromu listens for all of five minutes, making those quick few steps towards Ryuuji. He places his glass on the table, effortlessly sliding into Ryuuji’s lap and wrapping his already sweaty arms around Ryuuji’s neck.
The ice pack that Ryuuji had been holding against his neck to keep cool goes tumbling to the floor, thankfully missing Hiromu’s lap.
Ryuuji turns a brilliant shade of red, hands not sure where to rest. “It’s too hot!” Ryuuji says, but he doesn’t even bother to push Hiromu off.
“Even more reason to,” Hiromu answers, kissing Ryuuji so that any other protests that may bubble up (but never followed through) can come from his boyfriend. Somewhere, he hears Nick meow pitifully in exasperation, but he’ll focus on it later. Right now he’s trying to eliminate as much space as possible between him and Ryuuji’s chest.
Ryuuji kisses back, groans deep in his throat when Hiromu rolls his hips just right. The chair gives an ominous creak, but if anything Ryuuji grips Hiromu’s hips to press him down harder. Hiromu likes that, he likes when Ryuuji uses his strength to keep him pinned so that he finds it hard to move. One wouldn’t think that Ryuuji would be so strong but Hiromu’s seen him. Working out helps relieve stress, and Ryuuji has so much of it built up.
Well, working out and sex, and Hiromu likes being an outlet.
His teeth bite at Ryuuji’s lips, his chin, moving to nip at the shell of his ear, and Ryuuji’s already breathing heavily and his dick hard and heavy in his track pants. Hiromu licks his lips, content that he’s about to get what he wants.
Ryuuji’s hand runs up along the knobs of his spin, gliding back down and past the waistband of Hiromu’s boxers so that he can cup the swell of Hiromu’s ass. Hiromu moans encouragingly, another rock of his hips, and the heat is becoming too stifling but Hiromu doesn’t care. He needs this—badly.
“Ryuu, c’mon,” he huffs, an impatient wiggle of his hips telling him that he’s not just content with Ryuuji’s fingers tickling at his entrance.
“Lube, something—“ Ryuuji pants and Hiromu curses.
Of course, of course, that’s important, but—
Impatience is ruling Hiromu’s mind, one of his hands reaching down to grab Ryuuji’s wrist so he can drag his hand up to his mouth. He eagerly latches onto Ryuuji’s fingers, sucking on them and licking them with the intent to get them slick enough so that Ryuuji can finger him open just enough so that he can fuck Hiromu properly.
“Really,” Ryuuji is breathing hard, and Hiromu focuses on how his mouth forms around each syllable he says, “you’re pushing it this morning.”
“Nuh-uh,” Hiromu rocks his hips forward again, a steady wave of motion that has Ryuuji hissing. “You just keep yourself too locked up.”
And Hiromu is hoisted up easily, pushed against the table and boxers pulled down so Ryuuji can get at his ass. A finger presses in all too easily, followed by another, and Hiromu is starting to grin. Just a bit, just a bit, because he lets himself get lost in the sensation of Ryuuji’s fingers in him, stretching and thrusting, rubbing up against his prostate and making him purr and melt.
“Should get the cat ears,” he comments lazily, “the ones that were in my debut video—I know you’d like that. I knew you watched it.”
Ryuuji cusses, hand coming to desperately push down his track pants and release his cock. Hiromu licks his lips, leaning back some and keeping his hands on Ryuuji’s shoulder. He waits eagerly for that first push, and when it comes he arches his back and pushes back against that initial thrust. Hiromu likes this, he’s all too eager for it.
“Want me to meow, too?” Hiromu pants, and Ryuuji groans in response.
“You’re definitely asking for it,” Ryuuji growls. “Going to pound your ass so good—“
Hiromu’s eyes sparkle, his hold on Ryuuji tightening.
The table is creaking and shaking underneath him, showing the power behind each of Ryuuji’s thrusts. Hiromu is panting, moaning, and keening, legs wrapped tight around Ryuuji and that itch in his gut, in his groin, as his climax draws near. Hiromu loves getting off untouched, likes being manhandled and fucked to the point he can’t move.
“I-I can,” he continues. “Just like in that vid…video—ah!”
He sighs, murmurs his pleasure, teeth catching on Ryuuji’s shoulder as it becomes too much and he finally comes. Ryuuji continues to fuck him through his orgasm, harsh, staccato thrusts with no rhythm that makes Hiromu hiccup and moan, trying to push his boneless body closer until finally, finally Ryuuji comes as well and he ends up falling back gracelessly in his chair. He takes Hiromu with him, and they’re almost afraid the chair will break with the harsh noise it makes under their combined weight but it holds.
“It’s way too hot,” Hiromu ends up saying, once everything starts drying and his body is coming down from his high, and he’s sweaty—so sweaty.
“I told you,” Ryuuji gripes.
Hiromu ends up kissing him again, “Let’s have Round Two in the shower.”
Ryuuji can’t even respond. Any noises of protest is drowned out by the yowl Nick gives as he paws angrily at his food bowl.