Hanta never really thought he had a corruption kink until he started dating Shouto.
Shouto, who blushed a pretty pink when Hanta kissed him on the cheek in public, Shouto who shivered and got hard when Hanta just whispered stuff in his ear on the couch in private, Shouto, who preferred to do stuff with the lights off and had no idea what a rim job was until Hanta flipped him over one night and showed him.
And okay, maybe it’s not full-blown corruption, Hanta isn’t trying to turn Shouto one way or another. But Shouto is so willing to let Hanta show him things, so agreeable and pliant and open. It’s because of that they learn Shouto likes a little pain, likes being restrained, likes feeling owned, likes praise, and there’s so much more that Hanta wants to try.
And even if Hanta has the knowledge and the ideas, there are lots of things he doesn’t have. He finds himself shopping around for gear more often than not, and after work one day, Hanta takes a little time to visit a local sex shop for a particular item he’d been wanting to try with Shouto.
Hanta finds what he’s looking for almost right away, and he’s reaching out to take one from a hook until he’s interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket.
Shouto: where r u?
Shouto: o ok
Shouto: c u at home
Hanta can’t help the smile that cracks on his face at the easy acceptance. He takes his item from the wall and starts typing out a new message as he makes his way to the cashier to check out.
Hanta: that's it?
Hanta: you don't wanna know what i'm shopping for?
Shouto: ok what are u shopping for
Hanta shakes his head incredulously at the way Shouto is always willing to play along. He chances a glance at the cashier, who is busy and not looking, before holding the thing out in front of the counter laden with vibrators, snapping a picture, and sending it to Shouto.
Shouto: are those vibrators in the back
Shouto: are u in a sex shop
Shouto: what is that in ur hand
Hanta: im in a sex shop
Hanta: it’s a ball gag
Hanta: the blue part goes in your mouth.
Shouto: and white straps… to go with my collar?
Shouto: will it hurt?
Hanta: itll probably make your jaw sore if you wear it a long time
Hanta: but it’s not like
Hanta: Pain pain if you get my drift
Hanta: what if
Hanta: i tried putting it on you when i got home
Hanta takes a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he starts to write more, taking that answer as a good sign, but still unsure of how Shouto is going to react to reading this.
Hanta: i bet you'd let me
Hanta: you’d let me gag you and put your collar on and lead you around the living room on your hands and knees
Hanta: i bet i could make you drool all over the floor and lick it clean after
Hanta: you want that?
Hanta sends it all then pockets his phone, ignoring the vibrations as he pays for the ball gag. It gets put right into his tote bag so he can walk amongst normal, non-depraved people and get home to try it out. Just as Hanta’s exiting the shop, he takes his phone out again and looks at the screen.
3 missed calls from Shouto.
“What happened to you?” Shouto says in his ear when Hanta calls him back.
“Sorry, babe,” Hanta says, feeling himself smile as he pushes the door open and the afternoon sun blazes on his face. “I’m on my way home.”
“No, wait,” Shouto says, his voice high and panicked enough to make Hanta pause. He’s still standing outside the shop, but now he’s shutting the world out, pressing the phone hard to his ear and realizing how out of breath Shouto sounds. “I’m—listen—“
“Sho. Are you—? Tell me what you’re doing. Now.”
Shouto whines at the way Hanta practically growls into the receiver, and then Hanta hears it; a rhythmic, wet noise coming from Shouto’s end of the line, the rustle of bedsheets, soft sighs.
He’s touching himself. Shouto is panting in Hanta’s ear, hot and hard and touching himself.
“I’m—sorry,” Shouto gasps, “I need you, can you—?”
“Sweetheart, I can’t do this now,” Hanta says in a low voice as he immediately starts moving through the droves of people as if getting to the train station more quickly will speed up his commute. “If you want me to talk to you, you gotta wait.”
“Can’t,” Shouto says, pleading, breathless. “Wish you were here already, wish you were the one touching me. Wanna do all those things you said.”
Hanta swallows, listening as the slick noises over the phone start to get faster, as Shouto starts moaning longingly in his ears. God, why is he out right now? It’s his fault really, Hanta instigated all of this—he just didn’t expect Shouto to escalate, to call him back and make him listen to him touch himself on the phone in public.
“Han,” Shouto whispers, breaking through his frantic thoughts.
Hanta’s mouth feels dry, his chest heaves as he attempts to break through the crowd just so he can breathe. “I can’t,” he says, “believe me, I really want to, but there’s too many people—“
“No, please? Please, please, please, talk to me, I just wanna hear you—“
Shouto cuts off with a moan, and Hanta is absolutely incredulous at the situation, open mouthed and unable to help the way his cock twitches in his pants as he enters the loud, echo train station, where it’s easier not to be heard.
“God,” he mutters to himself, adjusting his tote bag to cover up his groin and looking around and making sure no on is right next to him. He eyes the bright advertisements on the walls as he passes through, hangs a right, and goes down the tunnel to his platform. Hanta takes a breath.
Okay. The din is louder in here. Maybe he can do this.
“You wanna do all those things I was talking about?” he says in a low voice as he takes a long staircase down, down. “Want me to tell you how pretty you’ll look when you’re gagged and drooling all over yourself for me?”
Shouto lets out a shaky breath at this, and Hanta feels absolutely insane as his mind works to come up with more, as his eyes dart around as he steps onto the platform. People are looking at their phones, are moving around him to get to the vending machine nearby, but all he can imagine is Shouto spread out on their bed, his pale skin flushed, his nipples peaked and pink as he plucks at them for more sensation, his cock red and wet in his own hand as he jerks himself off.
Hanta feels harder now. He waddles over to an emptier corner of the platform as Shouto groans in his ears.
“God, listen to you,” Hanta says quietly, turning to face outwards from the platform. “You started touching yourself the moment you saw that picture, didn’t you? Tell me what you’re doing. Tell me where you are.”
“Mm, jerking off on the couch. Just got home from work when I texted you. Wanted to see you.”
“I know. Soon. Are you touching yourself anywhere else?”
Hanta breathes a laugh, even as the mental image sends him flying. “That’s my good little whore,” he whispers.
This makes Shouto whine, and Hanta can tell by the pitch of his voice that he’s close.
“Wish I could see you. Can’t wait to get home and put the gag on you, can’t wait to see you crawl and beg for me, I’m gonna make you scream—”
“Oh fuck,” Shouto says suddenly, like he’s just remembered something. Hanta licks his lips, an announcement from the station drifting through his ears as Shouto shudders through a moan. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m coming.”
Hanta gulps, waiting as Shouto calls for him through his release, as the sounds of jerking off slow down and the line goes completely silent save for Shouto’s quick, aborted breaths. Around him, Hanta can see more people lining up at the places where the doors will open, can hear the sound of the approaching train rumbling on the track.
“Sho,” Hanta says softly, looking down to make sure his tote bag is secure over his waist. “I gotta go. My train’s coming in. Don’t do anything else until I get there, understand? Wait for me.”
“Okay,” Shouto sighs. He sounds satisfied, sleepy. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. See you soon.”
Hanta hangs up the phone and pockets it. He shakes himself out, a warm breeze blowing past as the train arrives and the doors open. It takes all his willpower to bring himself out of that phone call, to empty his mind of all the ways he’s gonna make Shouto pay for it.
It’s hard though. He smirks as he gets on the train and takes a seat, thinking of how fucking slutty Shouto sounded on the phone. It’s such a high contrast to the Shouto he’d started dating, the one who bit his lip and made himself so quiet, Hanta would have to stop everything just to check on him. He’s never heard Shouto like that. Like he couldn’t wait a single second for him.
Hanta wants to burn the conversation in his brain.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs as the train lurches underneath him, jostling the tote bag over his aching groin.
He hopes the train ride will be quick. And, Hanta thinks to himself, maybe he can admit it; he’s got a tiny, little, itty-bitty corruption kink.