The night of their defeat, Agon goes out and gets utterly wasted.
Unsui won't be happy, but that fucking idiot is never happy, even if he pretends that he isn't bothered. Agon's been stuck with him since the womb, so Unsui's poker face doesn't fool him. Which is probably why Unsui doesn't bother trying to pull him aside after the match for any inspirational words or dumb shit like that—instead, he lets Agon storm off. Agon goes to the nearest bar he can find, sits himself down, and has shot after shot. Most bartenders don't bother asking for identification; there's a benefit to his body beyond just smashing down useless piles of trash. Besides, most of them are too frightened to even look him in the eye.
By the time he gets to his eighth shot the room is going fuzzy around the edges, but he still can't fucking forget that fucking trash team. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees that 21 jumping over their line, just getting out his reach, sees the super kicker blasting away, the fucking fatso obliterating his line, and the gleam of Hiruma's fucking smile as he just escaped Agon's grasp to score the final touchdown.
Agon swears under his breath, making the bartender jump, and gets another shot. Fucking Hiruma. Agon had spent months doing side-jobs for him, killing time amusing himself with the dirty shit the great people of Tokyo got up to. Hiruma was a piece of trash, but he kept things interesting. Agon had only met a few people with a brain like that, capable of churning out nasty plan after nasty plan. But he'd ditched Hiruma after finding out that even kids like the devil had pathetic notions of grandeur. Agon didn't bother with trash, so he hadn't paid much attention to what Hiruma had been getting up to since then. But suddenly there he was at Agon's table; taller and leaner than he had been in middle school, but just as blond and batshit crazy. And worthless, of course.
Worthless. Agon snarls and sees it again—his hand, closing around empty air, Hiruma speeding out of his reach. He takes another shot. Apparently not as worthless as he thought. How could that piece of trash beat him like that? That entire fucking trash team had beaten him—
"Well, well. Looks like my information was correct, fucking dreads."
Agon surges off of his seat. Hiruma doesn't stop grinning even as Agon presses him hard into the nearest wall, blocking him in. Hiruma's not that much shorter than him, but he's just as fucking skinny as he was in middle school—Agon dwarfs him. Agon doesn’t have the time to feel superior, because the moment he shoves in against Hiruma there’s the cold, hard press of a gun against his ribs. Fucking quick draw piece of shit.
"You've still got those anger issues, fucking dreads," Hiruma drawls. He's still grinning, but there's a tightness to it that means he's not entirely comfortable. Still, this situation must've been in one of his crazy-ass predictions. Hiruma only stopped smiling when he didn't have any more plans up his sleeve. "Hasn't that fancy school of yours taught you to talk through your feelings?"
"If I beat your useless ass up," Agon says, pressing closer, ignoring the threat of the gun, "then you and that trash team of yours aren't going to any fucking Christmas Bowl."
Hiruma's grin falls away. Pressed as close as they are, Agon can hear the click of the gun’s safety going off. He smirks.
"I've got about twenty different things I can use to blackmail the bartender," Hiruma says. "And he's the only one in here. So if I fucking shoot you and leave you to bleed out, nobody would know it was me."
Agon presses his arm against Hiruma's throat and lifts until he and Hiruma are eye to eye and Hiruma's feet dangle. Hiruma, the fucking maniac, just looks unimpressed even though he's struggling to breathe. His gun is pointed at Agon's heart now, steady as a fucking rock.
"I don't care if you beat me," Agon says. "You're still trash. I'd be doing the world a favor, keeping you from playing anymore. All I need to do is hurt your arm a little and you may never throw a pass again."
There's no panic because Hiruma never panics, but his mouth tightens into a thin line. He still hasn't shot Agon though. Agon wonders if that's self-preservation or softness. Maybe even a kid like the devil has trouble killing someone with his own two hands. Agon won't pretend that it's nostalgia—he was never more than a helpful thug to Hiruma, a minion instead of a friend. Hiruma's not sentimental enough to hesitate over someone like him.
"If you're going to do it," Hiruma wheezes. "Do it. Don't just stand there spouting off your usual shit, fucking dreads."
Agon presses in harder until Hiruma's gasping again, then lets go. Hiruma doesn't do what any normal person would—check their throat, gasp for breath, cry for their mommy—instead lifting the gun to Agon’s face and grinning.
"What's this?" he asks. "Did you lose your balls, fucking dreads? Did they shrivel up and die after we beat your fucking shit team into the ground?"
Agon stares down at him; his crazy grin and dark eyes, the sweep of his hair, the hard, lean angles of his body, trained and scraped into muscle and bone. Sees again, as he probably will until the end of his goddamn life, the twist of Hiruma’s body as he landed that touchdown, escaping Agon's grasp just barely. And it all churns together—the red-hot fury of Hiruma's infuriating trash presence and the way Agon's eyes catch on his silver earrings and firm mouth.
"I fucking hate you," he says, and leans down to crash his mouth to Hiruma's.
Hiruma, crazy genius that he is, laughs into Agon's mouth. The gun's safety goes on again and there are arms winding around Agon's shoulders, pulling him in. The bartender makes a noise behind them and Agon pulls away to shoot a nasty glare over his shoulder. The bartender is suddenly quiet.
"If you give us the room over the bar, I won't tell your kids about those nasty photos I found on your computer, fucking mustache," Hiruma says. "Or about all those trips to that bitch you call a mistress."
The bartender gulps. "Fine," he says. "Just… please clean it when you're done." He cringes, then goes into the back, muttering.
"You're still a nasty shit," Agon observes.
Hiruma tugs hard at his dreads until Agon leans down. This close, his mouth is a sharp thing, razor-edged, primed to bite and tear. Agon doesn't flinch back.
"Come on," Hiruma says. “Bring me to bed, fucking dreads."
They make it to the upstairs apartment by sheer force of will. Hiruma is a fucking leech, clinging to Agon's waist and arms and laughing whenever he pulls them off-balance and makes Agon stumble drunkenly into the nearest wall. Agon's a little more sober than he was before, but everything's still blurry and his head is still stuffed with cotton, so he probably shouldn't be fucking carrying anyone around—not that Hiruma cares about safety or dumb shit like that. Hiruma'd probably purposefully make Agon trip and send them both down the stairs just for the hell of it.
By the time Agon dumps him on the bartender's dusty futon, Hiruma's bitten at least four hickeys into his neck. Agon touches one and his fingers come away bloody. He hisses, but Hiruma doesn't look sorry, only smug. Agon snarls and gets on top of Hiruma, bracketing him so that he can't escape or struggle, and begins to lay waste to Hiruma's neck and collarbone and chin.
"Fucking dreads, get on with it—!" Hiruma says as Agon sucks a huge, mean hickey into the hard muscle of his shoulder. There's a presumptuous tug on his hair, enough to make his scalp burn. Agon bites into the bruise and Hiruma's back arches, hands scrabbling on Agon's shoulders. "You fucking—!"
"Shut the fuck up," Agon mutters.
He leans back to admire the bloody crescent of his teeth in Hiruma's shoulder, the purpling bruises lining Hiruma's throat. Something dark thrums in him—marks like that won't fade for days. Hiruma will carry this encounter with him for days. He'll look in the mirror and see the marks and remember. Hiruma the unchallenged, Hiruma the weasel who slips out of everyone's grasp and everyone's plans—he'll carry Agon's marks around on his body, an open testament to the one time Agon finally pinned the motherfucker down.
"I'm dying here, fucking dreads," Hiruma drawls. He's grinning again. "I'll pine away from old fucking age before you ever get your cock in me."
"You're that hot for me, trash?" Agon asks, drawing Hiruma's legs apart. He can see the bulge of Hiruma's dick through his jeans. "You want me to just take you, huh? Rip you open?"
"I want you to prove that we came up here for more than a fucking nap," Hiruma says. His thighs are spread so wide that Agon's surprised that he isn't more uncomfortable—testing it, he spread them further, but Hiruma's expression remains challenging and easy. “Get on with it.”
Agon settles in between Hiruma’s thighs and shucks his shirt. By the time he looks back, Hiruma’s is off too—he’s leaner and paler than Agon, but there’s a solid density to his chest and shoulders that he didn’t have back when they were middle-school students. Not that Agon ever got a chance to see it for himself. Even then, Hiruma dressed in black from head to toe and never showed skin unless it was forced on him. Agon runs a hand down Hiruma’s chest, more intrigued than he’d like to admit. Hiruma's skin is so white, even with the scattered bruises from their last game. His nipples are flat and pink. Agon tugs absently on one, ignoring the way it makes Hiruma whine.
As far as he remembers, Hiruma never had lovers. Hell, Hiruma never had friends except for that fucking fatty. Middle-school Hiruma spent all his fucking time blackmailing people instead of chasing girls or boys or whatever the fuck he was into. If that’s the case…
“You a fucking virgin?” he asks.
Hiruma scoffs, twining his legs around Agon’s hips to jerk him closer so their cocks line up. Agon hisses, his hand falling away from Hiruma's nipple to settle on his hip. It’s not enough pressure or friction through their clothes, but he can still feel Hiruma’s heat. He jerks his hips and Hiruma makes a sound. Agon grins.
“You like that?” he says, leaning forward to get a better angle.
He rolls his hips again. Hiruma’s spine arches, hands scrabbling at the futon, heels pressing Agon in closer and closer. Agon’s going to have a bruise on his tailbone at this rate, but he can’t give a rat’s ass, not with Hiruma going out of his fucking mind like this. It makes his head swim, having that kind of power over Hiruma, making him writhe and moan like a cock-hungry slut. Hiruma, who had everyone by the fucking fingernails, who always had some fucking trick up his sleeve to make sure no one pulled something on him, who Agon had to watch and watch to make sure he wasn’t going to snake his way out of what he deserved. Having him by the balls was so sweet Agon nearly laughed aloud.
Hiruma’s heels were digging insistently into Agon’s ass. “Not enough, fucking dreads,” he grits out.
Agon dips his head to mouth along Hiruma’s neck, biting at his ear. “You really want me to fuck you that bad?” he asks, grinning as Hiruma shudders. “I’ve had girls who weren’t as wet for me, trash.”
Hiruma turns his head until they’re nose to nose. This close, his eyes seem huge. He has long lashes for a boy, thick and pale, and his teeth gleam as he smiles.
“Maybe you bored ‘em to death,” he drawls. “By being a lousy lay. That the hold up, fucking dreads? You just don’t know what to do with that cock of yours?”
Agon snarls and surges in, taking Hiruma’s mouth so brutally that he can taste blood. Hiruma, being Hiruma, doesn’t shrink back or snivel—instead, he meets Agon force for force, nipping and sucking Agon’s mouth, lapping at his bites with his tongue, gripping Agon’s hair tightly enough to make his scalp burn. Agon shifts until he’s got his thigh in the right position, then shoves forward, pressing up against Hiruma’s cock. Hiruma moans and Agon grins, pulling out of their kiss.
“Go ahead and ride it, trash,” he says. “You might as well practice for when you’re bouncing on my cock later.”
“Don’t trust yourself to do the hard work, huh?” Hiruma says, but he’s humping at Agon’s thigh so Agon decides not to punish him.
Instead, he meets Hiruma’s increasingly desperate thrusts, slipping his hands under Hiruma’s back to grab his ass and get him better purchase. Hiruma gives an interesting shudder as Agon palms his ass, shivering when Agon rubs at the crease of his thighs. Agon’s neglected cock throbs, but it’s more important to reduce Hiruma to a moaning, sobbing mess right now, so he ignores it.
He knows Hiruma’s close—he can feel the throb of Hiruma’s cock even through their clothes—but Agon pushes him that much closer. Hiruma grabs at his shoulders, leaving scratches that burn pleasantly, and Agon tightens his grip on Hiruma’s ass, practically lifting him off of the futon to ride up on Agon’s thigh. Hiruma keens, shuddering, and that’s when Agon pulls off of him entirely.
Hiruma stares at him, chest heaving, cock a heavy line pressing at the front of his jeans, mouth red and open. His eyes narrow.
“You’re not coming until I’ve got my cock in you,” Agon says, standing so he can shuck his jeans and underwear. He’s already fully hard. “No sooner, fucking trash.”
Hiruma snarls, then stands too. Agon smirks when he notices that Hiruma’s noticeably shakier on his feet than he was before they came upstairs. Hiruma glares at him, then takes off his pants and underwear. Agon takes in Hiruma’s pale, muscled legs, the hard thighs, the flushed cock already hard against his stomach. Hiruma grins at him, equilibrium regained, and poses, putting a foot up on the futon so Agon can look at his leisure.
“You’re nothing impressive, trash,” Agon says.
Hiruma coos at him. “Your cock says otherwise, fucking dreads.”
Agon growls, but before he can move, Hiruma’s in front of him, dropping to his knees. Agon freezes, staring down at Hiruma’s bent head. He should probably be concerned about Hiruma’s teeth—that fucking smile is a little too close to his balls for comfort—but all he can think about is Hiruma fucking Youichi on his knees, about to take Agon’s cock in his mouth. Hiruma sneaks a sly look up at him, then mouths at Agon’s thighs, pressing open kisses to the muscles there, bypassing his cock entirely. Agon growls and curls his fingers in Hiruma’s hair, tugging. Hiruma makes an interesting noise that Agon notes for later investigation, because right now most of his mind is focused on Hiruma’s mouth sliding over the head of his cock.
Agon keeps his hand in Hiruma’s hair but softens his grip enough that Hiruma can move on his own. Hiruma, being a little shit, acts like some cock-shy virgin giving their first blowjob; he licks and tickles and teases until Agon’s ready to just hold him down and fuck his mouth raw. Mouths wet kisses against the head, kitten licks against the throbbing vein, breathes on his balls. Agon's hand tightens in his hair as Hiruma gives him a hard suck to the head, only to pull off entirely to lick at the slit. Hiruma, probably sensing that Agon’s getting pissed, pulls off enough to grin up at him. Agon shudders—on his knees, mouth red and slick, eyes gleaming, Hiruma looks obscene.
“If I can’t come until I’m on your cock,” Hiruma says, “then you can’t come until you’re in my ass, fucking dreads.”
Agon sneers. “You think that weak technique is gonna make me come, trash?” he says. “I’ve fucked first years who can blow better than you.” Not true—Agon doesn’t fuck first years and he doesn’t fuck virgins. He doesn’t have the patience to teach someone how to give good head or ride a dick.
“You say that, but look at you.”
Hiruma mouths at Agon’s balls with firmer pressure and the wet heat makes Agon jerk forward. His cock is flushed, leaking precome, and he can feel the pleasant buzz at the base of his spine. He tugs hard on Hiruma’s hair and Hiruma moans. The vibrations are almost enough to send Agon over the edge, but he gets himself under control. He’s already lost to Hiruma in football, he’ll be damned if he loses in sex too. Hiruma’s going to be the first one to come, and he’ll come on Agon’s dick or not at all.
“Off, trash,” he says.
Hiruma’s mouth makes an obscene wet sound as it slides off of his balls and he looks a little dazed. Experimentally, Agon tugs on his hair again, harsher, and Hiruma shivers, tilting his whole body into that direction like a kitten being pampered. Agon smirks and does it again, lifting Hiruma to his feet by his hair alone. When he presses a kiss to Hiruma’s red mouth, he’s panting.
“On the bed,” Agon says against Hiruma’s mouth. “On all fours.”
Hiruma nips at his bottom lip. “Doggystyle?” he asks. “I thought you wanted me to ride you.”
Agon pulls back to give Hiruma’s naked body a long considering look.
“Oh, you will,” he says. “But first I want to fuck you from behind and take what I want from you.” Hiruma moans and Agon grins. A control freak like Hiruma got off on that kind of shit, huh? He should’ve fucking guessed. “Then I’ll let you ride me, trash. It'll be your reward for being so good.”
Hiruma opens his mouth, but Agon ignores him, shoving him back on the futon. Hiruma snarls up at him, twisting as Agon invades his space, but even though Hiruma’s tricky and insane and cleverer than a fucking fox, Agon’s got muscle and speed on his side, so he manages to pin Hiruma down just the way he wants him in less than a minute. Hiruma, on his hands and knees, ass in the air, recognizes defeat and, being a little bastard, takes his revenge by snapping his hips back to rub his ass against Agon’s dick.
Agon tightens the grip he has on Hiruma’s wrists and settles fully on Hiruma’s back, pressing him into the futon. Agon’s fucked a number of girls but none of them have felt like Hiruma; wiry and vibrating with tension, and Agon knows that if he lets up for one second Hiruma will turn the tables and take what he wants. Agon grinds his cock against Hiruma’s ass, panting against the back of his neck, breathing in his sweat and musk. Hiruma smells vaguely sweet, probably from his fucking gum.
“Didn’t you make some big speech about taking what you want from me?” Hiruma says. “Or do you only want to hump me like a dog in heat?”
Agon nips at his ear in punishment, then leans back, taking his weight off of Hiruma’s back. He frowns down at Hiruma’s wrists in his hand, then blindly reaches out with his free hand for his belt. Hiruma’s head is pressed so that he can look over his shoulder and Agon takes some satisfaction in the way his eyebrow twitches when he sees how Agon is tying his wrists together.
“You think that can hold me, fucking dreads?” Hiruma asks as Agon finishes cinching it together. Not tight enough to be painful, but enough that Hiruma will probably have bruises tomorrow. Agon’s dick twitches at the thought. “I’ll fucking—“
“You’ll stay the way I want you to until I tell you you can move,” Agon says.
He leans back until he’s on his knees, staring at Hiruma’s prone body. Without his hands, Hiruma is clearly having trouble balancing; he’s slipped forward so far that the muscles in his arms strain and his ass is on full display. Agon licks his lips and reaches out to brush his fingers against Hiruma’s hole. Hiruma moans, the sound muffled by a pillow, and Agon has to grip the base of his dick to keep from coming. He’s fucked a couple of girls in the ass, but they usually didn’t like it that much after their curiosity was worn out and none of them had been so fucking responsive.
He slips the tip of a finger in. Hiruma’s tight and hot and Agon licks his lips, letting his finger sink in just a little more. Hiruma makes a sound—something breathy—and pushes back against him. But he’s too tight, too dry. Agon takes a quick scan of the apartment. A single man living alone probably has—
There it is. Agon pulls his finger out, ignoring Hiruma’s snarl, and stands to get a bottle of lotion on the dresser drawer. Not ideal—lube would be better—but much better than trying to do it dry. He slathers it all over his fingers, grateful that at least it’s unscented, and then slides a finger back into Hiruma. Still tight, but the movement is easier now and he can go deeper, feel the clench of Hiruma’s hole all the way up to his second knuckle. Hiruma’s wordless and whining and when Agon begins to move his finger, in and out in a pale imitation of a fuck, he gets louder. Fucking responsive, Agon thinks and grips the base of his cock with his free hand again. He wouldn’t mind coming on Hiruma’s ass and back or down his throat, but having him spread out like this, listening to the way he sounds from just Agon’s fingers, he wants to come in Hiruma’s ass. Wants to see him spread pretty and moaning for it. For him to be affected for once and for Agon to be the clear reason for Hiruma losing his shit.
He wants Hiruma to feel him tomorrow. To feel this for days.
Agon adds another finger and Hiruma’s back arches. It’s too tight for any real motion, so Agon drizzles some lotion over Hiruma’s hole and his fingers until everything is slippery. Underneath the horniness and the satisfaction, suspicion blooms.
“You’ve never fucking done this before, have you, trash?”
No girlfriend or boyfriend. The tightest ass Agon’s ever had. Agon might not be blessed with Hiruma’s capacity for problem solving, but it’s hardly a hard equation to answer.
Hiruma twists, so impossibly flexible that Agon’s dick twitches, and grins up at Agon over his shoulder. In this kind of situation, that smile should be alarming, but Agon only feels an odd combination of infuriated and reassured. Hiruma’s never smiled like that when a plan wasn’t going the way he wanted—which, of course, meant that the little fucker had set this up from the beginning, but at least he wouldn’t run away crying the moment Agon got his dick wet.
“Need a bigger dick than that for even my virgin ass to feel anything, fucking dreads,” Hiruma says.
In revenge, Agon twists his fingers, pressing fully on the prostate he’s only brushed by before. Hiruma collapses, ass in the air, pushing back against him, hands twisting in their belted hold. Agon grins and leans forward until his lips brush Hiruma’s ear.
“You’re going to feel me for days, trash,” he says and bites the lobe.
Hiruma snarls, but he’s too breathless for a comeback, which Agon takes as a victory. The tightness around his fingers is easing a little—still a hot vise, but not one that’s going to snap off his dick. He adds a third finger for safety and because he likes sees them in Hiruma’s ass, the stretch of his hole. He doesn’t hit Hiruma’s prostate full on again, but only brushes it, teasing. Hiruma snarls back at him, eyes flashing and mouth in a scowl and Agon wonders how it became his life that seeing Hiruma act like an asshole would turn him on so much.
Not like an asshole. Like he’s feeling something other than sadistic joy. Almost all of Agon’s frustration with Hiruma has more to do with his psychotic smile and stupid mask than anything else; there was keeping your emotions and heart under lock and guard and then there was Hiruma, who kept them in a locked tower under constant supervision, with a moat and a electric fence guarding the property. The only person who ever got Hiruma to shed that mask, just a bit, was the fucking fatty, and that drove Agon nuts.
But not now. Hiruma’s not smiling and playing that smoke and mirrors game now. Agon’s got him on his knees, hands tied, snarling, and he’s doing all of it because of Agon. He’s acting like this because of Agon.
Agon pulls his fingers out. Hiruma’s hole is relaxed and pink and he guides his dick to it, curling his other hand around Hiruma’s hip to steady him. The heat of it is enough to drive him mad, but he’s as slow as he can be. Hiruma doesn’t make a sound until Agon bottoms out, balls up against Hiruma’s ass, and then he lets out the softest whimper. Agon shudders, pressing up against Hiruma’s back. He waits for a moment to let Hiruma adjust and to see if Hiruma will say anything. When there’s nothing but silence, he straightens out, presses his hands on Hiruma’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart so he can see the way Hiruma’s hole looks stretched tight around his dick. He pulls all the way out and thrusts in again, cock throbbing as Hiruma’s makes a punched out, breathy moan, and then does it again, changing the angle just enough to hit Hiruma’s prostate. Hiruma’s moan is louder this time.
Agon doesn’t fuck him hard, not at first. Not because he wants to go easy on Hiruma, but because the pleasure is always more intense when it’s unexpected and he wants Hiruma to feel it. He wants Hiruma to be begging for it.
Hiruma, being Hiruma, doesn't beg, even when Agon continues to fuck him softly and gently. Instead, Agon gets a glimpse of a challenging smile from where Hiruma's head is tilted into the pillow. Before Agon can do anything, Hiruma slams his hips back, meeting Agon's thrust so sharply that Agon nearly comes. Too fast and too good. Agon swears.
"Come on," Hiruma says. "Stop pussyfooting around, fucking dreads. I'm not a glass doll."
Agon leans down until he's pressed against Hiruma's warm back. He nips at Hiruma's ear.
"Beg," he says.
Hiruma manages to get his fingers on Agon's nipple so he can twist. Agon laughs and leans back, bracketing Hiruma's hips with his hands, holding him in place. Even tied up, Hiruma always found a way to retaliate. The little fucker.
"You want me to fuck you?" Agon says. "Fine."
He swivels his hips experimentally and pulls out until only the head of his cock is still in Hiruma's hole. Then, grinning, he slams back in, balls slapping against Hiruma's ass, and listens to Hiruma's howl with pleasure. He doesn't give Hiruma the chance to breathe and recover; instead he immediately pulls out and thrusts in again, increasing his pace until the only sound in the room is the wet slide of his cock and Hiruma's moans.
Agon's cock throbs as he adjusts his hips and slides even deeper into Hiruma's hole; a few more thrusts and he'll come, he can tell. He snarls and pulls out. Hiruma whines, ass lifting a little higher in the air, and Agon strokes the curve of it, pleased.
"Come on," he says, and lifts Hiruma around the waist.
Hiruma's no lightweight, but Agon's got muscle and height on his side. He manages to get Hiruma turned around and on his thighs without too much trouble and, more importantly, without having to undo the ties on Hiruma's wrists. Hiruma stares down at him, flushed and open-mouthed, eyes glassy. The flush spreads all the way down to his rosy nipples; Agon fights the urge to take one in his mouth and bite it. Maybe later.
"I said you'd ride me, didn't I?" he says, spreading out on the futon as comfortably as he can. Hiruma's weight is heavy but not unpleasant on his waist, Agon's cock settling in the crack of his ass but not slipping inside of his hole yet.
Hiruma squirms, settling in and Agon thrusts up, rubbing against his ass. His cock catches on Hiruma’s hole and they both gasp.
“Come on, trash,” he says. “Or did I wear you out already?"
Hiruma’s eyes narrow. With freakish balance, he shifts his weight until he’s got a better angle and slides down on Agon’s cock. He keeps his eyes on Agon’s the entire time, mouth tilted up in a manic grin. Agon’s distracted by the heat of him, the way he can go even deeper in this new position, but he tries not to let it show. Like hell he’s going to let Hiruma get the upper hand.
“Well?” he drawls as Hiruma shifts. “I’m falling asleep here, trash. Clearly you’re not just a failure on the field—“
He gasps, shuddering, as Hiruma lifts up and slams down on his cock all in one sudden, fluid movement, the muscles in his thighs tensing and bunching. Before Agon can catch his breath, Hiruma does it again and again and again, setting a steady, relentless rhythm. Agon’s reluctantly impressed; with his hands tied and no real way to keep his balance, Hiruma must be having a hell of a time of it, but he’s still riding Agon like he’s been sitting on cocks his entire life. It’s irritating. And hot.
Agon takes Hiruma’s hips and spreads his legs, upsetting Hiruma’s balance and tilting him forward so that he’s spilled all over Agon’s chest. Hiruma bites his shoulder in retaliation, sharp enough to draw blood, and Agon swats at his ass. Hiruma makes an interesting sound and, as close as they are, Agon can feel the throb of his cock against his stomach. Interesting. He does it again, as an experiment, and Hiruma moans.
“You’re a kinky little shit, aren’t you?” Agon says.
Hiruma snarls and wiggles, trying to get back into position, but Agon has a good grip and no intention of letting Hiruma set the pace. No, his blood is boiling, his cock is throbbing, and he wants to come inside this nice, tight hole.
“It’s all right, trash,” he says in Hiruma’s ear, biting the lobe. “I’ll give you what you want."
He spreads his knees a little further, settling Hiruma more securely on his chest, then thrusts up. Hiruma shouts, shuddering, but Agon maintains his pace. He changes his angle a little and grins when Hiruma melts against him, boneless and whimpering. Different position, but he still found the right angle to hit Hiruma's prostrate directly. And the tight clench of his ass is so good, the friction as Agon slams up into him is so good, and Agon’s so close--
A bite at his collarbone brings him back. He snarls, frees a hand to snag in Hiruma’s hair and drag his head back.
Hiruma grins at him with a bloody mouth. “Thought you said you were going to give me what I want, fucking dreads."
Agon scowls at him. Without releasing Hiruma’s hair, he gives a solid smack to Hiruma’s ass even as he grinds up into his hole. He watches, satisfied, as Hiruma’s eyes flutter and his mouth parts, smile slipping away. It’s a pretty picture, so Agon does it again and his cock throbs as Hiruma moans. Agon’s eyes catch on Hiruma’s nipples again and he leans forward to take one in his mouth, biting down hard around the nub.
Hiruma comes with a shout, warmth spreading along Agon’s stomach, hole tightening around Agon’s cock to a near vice. Agon fucks him through it, laves his nipple with his tongue as Hiruma shudders. He waits until Hiruma’s gone boneless and pliant with the afterglow before he fucks up into him once, twice, three times and comes deep in Hiruma's hole.
By the time Agon comes back to himself, Hiruma’s collapsed on his chest. Agon scowls down at his stupid blond head and sits up, sending him sliding off onto the futon and off of his dick. As he shifts, come begins to leak slowly out of his ass--Agon ignores the spark it sends up his spine, even after that spectacular orgasm. Hiruma grins up at him, looking well-fucked and sated. It’s a good look on him and Agon does his best to pretend that he doesn’t notice, standing and going to the apartment’s small bathroom to wash the drying come off of his stomach.
“You going to untie me, fucking dreads?”
“What if I said no?” Agon calls back. rubbing a washcloth roughly over his skin.
He eyes it for a minute then grunts, taking it back with him as he re-enters the room. He throws it to Hiruma, watching with satisfaction as it lands next to him, too far away for him to reach without his hands. Hiruma doesn’t seem bothered—he’s still grinning, the freak.
“You know I have a lot of things in my book that you probably don’t know about your brother,” Hiruma says.
Agon rolls his eyes. “You think I care what you do to him?"
“I think you don’t want the one person who can keep up with you tossed out on his ass,” Hiruma says. “If he can’t play, then who will you use for all your special plays, hm? It’d be so inconvenient to find someone new.”
Not that inconvenient, Agon thinks. Kid could probably do it. Hell, give Hiruma a couple of days and he’d probably be able to duplicate all of their plays. Of course, then he’d have to play on a team with Kid or Hiruma and even Unsui is better than that.
He kneels down and unbuckles his belt, letting Hiruma’s arms go free. Hiruma rubs at his wrists, but there’s only a faint bruise, nothing too tangible. Within a few hours, it’ll probably be gone. Agon’s mildly disappointed. At least there’s a dark ring of hickeys along Hiruma’s neck and an impressive bite mark on his right nipple. Those marks won’t fade for a few days at least. Agon smirks.
Hiruma begins to rub himself down with the wash cloth and Agon goes for his clothes. As he dresses, he wonders if Hiruma will be like the girls he’s slept with, the ones who wanted to chat and cuddle afterward. He can’t imagine Hiruma’s a cuddler, but he could want a chat, if only to get some information out of Agon.
And, strangely, Agon isn’t sure he wants to leave. He waffles as he pulls on his shirt, looking from the door to Hiruma. They’ll see each other again, probably. American football in Japan is a small enough circle that the players always run across each other. But it irritates Agon for some unknown reason that he’ll probably never get Hiruma alone like this again or even like this again—this one-off whatever is exactly that; a one off. And Agon’s usually fine with that, so he doesn’t know why he’s being such an indecisive pussy about it.
Hiruma, clean and alert now, grins at him. “You want a fucking cuddle?” he asks.
"Just want to make sure you aren't going to go home crying over your lost virginity, trash," Agon says.
Hiruma stretches, long and luxurious. The pale expanse of his body is exasperatingly distracting.
"If anyone's going to cry themselves to sleep tonight, it's you, fucking dreads," he says. "Or should I say, fucking loser?"
Agon snarls. "I could still break your arm."
Hiruma's up before Agon can move, sidling into his space, crazy-ass grin in place. He smells like sex and something sweet and Agon's come is leaking out of his ass still. Agon's cock should still be out of commission, but it tries its best to get with the program. Agon curses it.
"I don't think you want to break my arm, fucking dreads," Hiruma coos. "Not when I can use it to do some very nice favors for you."
"I don't do repeats," Agon says. "You might be tighter than a girl, but you're too fucking irritating."
Hiruma reaches up and tugs on Agon's dreads, smashing their mouths together. Hiruma's kissing is much like Hiruma himself; presumptuous, violent, and thorough. By the time Hiruma pulls away, Agon's panting and more than ready for another round, repeats be damned. Hiruma, the fucking shit, smirks up at him like he knows it.
"If you really don't want me to break your arm," Agon says, pulling off his shirt, "you'll give me that favor right now."
As Agon pulls them back to the futon, Hiruma laughs.