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Whatever It Takes

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"You’ve got to be joking," Hiro drones sarcastically. "Mr. Popularity can’t get a date to the ball?"

"It’s not a ball, Hiro," Tadashi retorts. "It’s a formal. And I haven’t tried to get a date. I asked you to come with me because it’d be good for you to get out of the house and get to know the gang a little better."

"I don’t know, bro," Hiro looks at him sideways. "You sound kinda desperate. I think I’m too cute to be seen with someone like you."

Tadashi blushes, turning his back to his younger brother.

"Look, I’ll pay for everything…"

"Obviously."

"…I’ll even buy you dinner."

"All right, bro. I’m sure it’ll be a night to remember."

That night, Tadashi heads up the stairs, dressed in a somewhat casual black suit with an untied tie around his neck. Hiro’s suit, remarkable smaller than his own, is thrown over his shoulder.

"Are you ready to get dressed?" Tadashi begins, "We need to be at dinner in about half an hour."

"I’m already dressed, ‘Dashi." Hiro steps out from the bathroom, and Tadashi’s jaw falls open.

The fourteen-year-old’s face is barely recognizable, his cheeks dusted with a soft rosy blush, his eye lids accented by a thick smoky gray. Hiro’s lips glisten a deep burgundy red, outlined in sharp black lines which emphasize the cupid’s bow of his upper lip. He has combed his hair, mimicking a longish pixie cut. His slender body is tightly wrapped in a short black dress. The satiny fabric hugs his shape, sequins dripping down his side from shoulder to angular hip bone. The dress has one sleeve, the neckline swooping across his chest to leave the other arm completely bare.

"Do you like it?" Hiro turns slowly, bending down until the hem of the dress rises up his thigh, stopping just under the curve of his ass.

"Hiro," Tadashi gasps. "What are you wearing?"

"Under this? Nothing."

"You can’t go like that…"

"You didn’t mind this look last year."

"That was one time!" Tadashi pleas. "It was…" It was a mistake, he thinks to himself.

"You said yourself, we don’t have time for me to change." Hiro sits down on the edge of his bed, pulling a pair of black suede ankle boots out from underneath it. As he slips his foot into the first shoe, Tadashi sees that he was not lying about the lack of underwear. "Besides, no one will recognize me. Just say I’m your old flame from out of town."

"Hiro, you know I support this…"

"I know part of you supports this,” Hiro chuckles.

"…but are you sure you’ll be comfortable with all my friends? They barely know you."

"First of all, Tadashi," Hiro marches confidently toward him, "I am totally comfortable. It’s you I’m worried about." Hiro playfully grabs at Tadashi’s cock. "You think you can make it through the whole night without anyone noticing this?"

Tadashi steps away, stammering, “I know I asked you to do this, but…”

"But nothing." Hiro shifts his voice up in pitch, softening the edges of his words. "You show me a good time tonight, nerd. And maybe I’ll return the favor." Hiro presses his painted lips to Tadashi’s cheek, and then pushes past him down the stairs. "Now come on! I’m getting hungry."

---

If any of them recognize Hiro, not a single one of Tadashi’s classmates says a word. Halfway through a large plate of appetizers, Tadashi feels Hiro’s hand on his thigh under the table. He reaches down, intending to brush Hiro away, but Hiro grabs his fingers, dragging them over until Tadashi’s palm rests on the border of Hiro’s dress, his pinky brushing stretch cotton, his index finger resting on bare thigh. Hiro guides his hand up, under the hem of the dress.

Tadashi coughs and jerks away, his arm knocking into the table. Hiro laughs. As the meal continues, Hiro gets bolder, taking any opportunity to grope at Tadashi’s growing bulge under the table. Tadashi’s nerves worsen, convinced that the rest of the table will discover their ruse. Still, the attention is hard to ignore, and when he notices Hiro unzipping the fly of his pants, Tadashi does not protest.

He tries desperately to maintain normal conversation as Hiro’s slender fingers slide into the cheap suit pants, wrapping deftly around his swelling shaft. Tadashi has never appreciated a tablecloth more in his life. He wonders briefly why the rest of them refuse to talk among themselves, and struggles to keep forcing words out when he feels Hiro pull his cock free.

"Will Baymax be ready before the showcase?" Wasabi asks, spearing a bite of salad with his fork.

"Oh, probably not," Tadashi stammers.

"And I keep you plenty busy," Hiro retorts, a smirk on his face. He squeezes gently, drawing a small squeak out of his blushing older brother.

"Are you all right, Tadashi?" Honey Lemon asks, leaning forward with a napkin in hand. "You’re so red!" She dips the napkin in his forgotten water glass and pats it to his forehead.

"Oh, I’m fine," Tadashi assures her. "Just overworked, I guess." Hiro pumps his fist around Tadashi’s shaft between each word. Then, suddenly, he lets go.

Hiro stretches widely, and stands, demurely tugging the hem of his dress down just over his knees. “Pardon me, I’m going to run to the ladies room.” He lays his hand on Tadashi’s shoulder. “Could you show me where it is?”

Before one of the girls can volunteer, Tadashi stands quickly, bowing slightly to hide his arousal as he does, and ushers Hiro unceremoniously toward the back of the restaurant. Hiro steps into the bathroom. Tadashi waits a few minutes, and steps in after him, locking the door. The room is intended for one person’s use, and is surprisingly stark for the prices on the restaurant’s menu.

When Tadashi turns from the door, Hiro is leaning against the sink, his dress hiked up around mid thigh. “I knew you couldn’t make it through dinner.”

Tadashi rushes him, grabbing Hiro’s arms and throwing them over his own shoulders. He lifts Hiro and spins, pinning his back against the tiled wall, letting Hiro wrap his legs around his waist. Tadashi reaches down, pulling the dress up over Hiro’s ass, and then pulls his cock through the still open pant fly.

Holding onto Tadashi with one arm, Hiro generously licks his palm, and reaches between them to lubricate Tadashi’s cock. Tadashi leans in and kisses him passionately as Hiro strokes his shaft, pressing his tongue through Hiro’s wanting mouth, inhaling the sweet perfume the boy is wearing.

Pushed to the breaking point, Tadashi refuses further foreplay, pressing the head of his cock into Hiro. The boy responds gratefully, pushing his hips down into Tadashi’s thrust. He groans loudly as his ass presses into his brother’s hips, and then gives in to Tadashi’s control, letting the older Hamada set the pace.

The cheaply-constructed wall shakes with each of Tadashi’s lustful thrusts, and Hiro cries out loudly, biting into his ruby lips in a failed attempt at quieting himself. Hiro clings tightly to his brother, and leans in close enough to rest his forehead against Tadashi’s collarbone.

"How does it feel in me, ‘Dashi?" Hiro whispers against him with his more feminine voice. "Do I make you feel good?"

"Amazing," Tadashi pants, the fire building in the base of his stomach. "Oh fuck, Hiro there’s nothing that feels better than this." His fingers clench on Hiro’s back. The boy’s body feels slick and girlish through the soft stretchy cotton.

"Aren’t you glad I’m your girlfriend, tonight, ‘Dashi?" Hiro grunts, his back is tight in Tadashi’s grip, and Tadashi feels Hiro’s cock tensing against his stomach. "Cum for me, ‘Dashi. Cum inside your little girl."

"Hiro…" But Hiro finishes first. Tadashi feels Hiro’s hot cum on his shirt, hears the boy’s breath catch and then release in a loud cry of pleasure. The sensation of Hiro clenching and twisting around his own cock is enough to shake Tadashi’s knees, and he groans loudly, burying his cock into Hiro until his belt is biting painfully into the boy as his orgasm takes hold.

They are still, now, holding each other against the cold tile wall, panting. Sweat runs down Hiro’s face in tiny rivulets, drawing thin lines of eye shadow down his cheeks.

They clean up quickly, doing the best they can in the spartan bathroom. Tadashi rinses his shirt off in the sink while Hiro desperately scrubs makeup off of his cheeks with a paper towel. Hiro leaves the bathroom first, walking slowly and awkwardly back to the table. Tadashi returns a few minutes later, complaining about the clumsy waiter that spilled wine on him. Though the table shares some knowing looks, the friends remain silent on the strangely familiar ex-girlfriend Tadashi brought to dinner.

Nor do they really wonder why the couple never arrived at the dance.