Archive of Our Own

They sit at the poolside, ankles submerged into the cool water and reflection of the moon above them. Between them is a bottle of red wine, passed between Hinata’s tanned hands and Komaeda’s stainless steel, forgoing the pretense of crystal glasses and drinking straight from the lip of the glass. Hinata takes a graceless swig, lets the hint of muscat and dry sensation pool in his mouth.

“It’s a Suntory, 2012.”

Komaeda smiles at him, already settling into a pretty pink flush around his neck and cheekbones. “I didn’t realize Hinata-kun had such austere tastes,” he teases while accepting the bottle from Hinata’s hands.

“Well, somebody did,” Hinata scoffs. He wonders if the original Ultimate Wine Sommelier would be infuriated that their talents have been implanted into the brain of someone who drinks straight from the bottle. Probably. Hinata barely suppresses a grimace when he takes another sip and the sharp tang hits the back of his tongue. He doesn’t need the skills of an Ultimate Analytic to notice Komaeda giggle at whatever facial expression he’s currently making.

“Hey, I never said I actually liked this stuff! I don’t know how you do, it’s kind of gross,” Hinata says with a huff. “Makes my mouth feel weird.”

Komeda hums. “I like the kind that isn’t too sweet.”

 “Guess so.”

“There’s boxes of grape juice upstairs, if you’d prefer that, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda says jovially, the teasing glint in his eyes only growing more emboldened by Hinata’s rising blush.

“ Oi. ” 

They’ve been together long enough that Komaeda is immune to Hinata’s grumping, but Hinata honestly can’t complain when he sees the other’s carefree smile.

“Still,” Hinata acquiesces, brushing his feet through starlight in the pool’s reflective surface, “This is nice.”

They spend the rest of the moment in comfortable silence, sipping and dyeing their lips dark red, until the island breeze picks up a nighttime chill.

“Should we return to our lovenest?” Komaeda says with a smile and wink, speaking in a tone that’s much louder than his usual rasp.

“ I told you to stop saying that in public -” Hinata starts, moving to make a beeline back to the privacy of their cottage, but pauses when he feels the concrete of the poolside tilt traitorously underneath him. He’s suddenly plagued with the mental image of Komaeda trying to stand, tumbling to the hard surface of the ground, cracking open his head, stupidly cute drunken flush still lingering on his cheeks. “Here, take my hand.”

With their half-drunk bottle in one hand, cool metallic fingers in the other, Hinata navigates them back to their cottage with extreme concentration. It was once just Hinata’s cottage, but like in all aspects of Hinata’s life, Komaeda’s essence slowly encroached within whether Hinata liked it or not. Turns out, after a few days of befuddled emotions and nights of pining, Hinata really liked having Komaeda everywhere despite his better judgement. There was something comfortable, maybe even right about seeing Komaeda’s red toothbrush next to his green one, his clothes folded on the floor next to the bed, having to brush Komaeda’s newest book to the side of the table so they could drink morning coffee together.

He sincerely hopes that Komaeda doesn’t notice him miss the lock with his key once or twice, but it seems Komaeda is too busy draping himself across Hinata’s back, warm breath puffing out against the nape of his neck.

“Hajime-kun,” he says, Hinata can feel Komaeda smiling into his skin while he nearly breaks lock by finally jamming his key so hard into. “I have a great idea. I think we should go to-”

With the door open, Hinata hastily yanks the other inside, slamming the door shut behind them before one of their neighbouring friends notice how stupidly drunk they are or how stupidly turned on Hinata’s getting from Komaeda being publicly handsy, and he loses the few remaining shreds of his dignity.

He knows Komaeda is pretty much a lightweight, given by his petite stature and the way how it only takes a little bit of wine to make him get giggly and so appealing. It’s getting kind of late, and he’s sure that Komaeda is going to get sleepy and crash soon, so he thinks he should probably put a halt to whatever is transpiring in alluring warmth of their cottage. He’s going to be the bigger person and suggest they go to sleep.

Komaeda’s looking at him with hazy grey eyes and widened pupils, so Hinata opens his mouth and says: “You should get naked.”

Well, he tried.

There seems to be some disconnect between his brain and his mouth, and apparently also his hands now as he’s helping Komaeda undress. 

It’s impossible to resist Komaeda like this. Normally they play a roundabout game of trying to express their affections among the roadblocks of Komaeda’s paranoia, Hinata’s own emotional incompetence, and their mutual awareness of the dangers of being too close to someone else - but tonight, it certainly feels different. Less inhibited. Pretty damn good.

They come crashing into the bed, naked torsos careening into the old mattress, laughing like teenagers they never fully got to be. Once their boxers go appropriately flying through the air, Komaeda yanks Hinata on top of him with surprising momentum.

“Hinata-kun,” he says, smiling beautifically as he pulls Hinata down against his neck. “Hinata-kun, Hinata-kun, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda’s murmuring only increases when Hinata starts pressing his mouth against his throat.

Hinata nips against the other’s pale skin, but instead of the usual squirming he anticipated, Komaeda’s body lays relaxed and pliant. Without a fuss, he tilts his chin up and away, giving Hinata further access to his neck. Hinata can hear Komaeda’s happy sighs while he takes the other’s delicate skin into his mouth, and when he finally pulls back to assess the damage Komaeda is gazing up at him with a lazy, giddy smile and half-lidded eyes.

“Feeling good?” He asks, noting a particularly large mark blooming overtop of Komaeda’s pulse point.

“Ahaha, this is really nice.”

“You look really nice.” Hinata says, very smoothly and totally cool.

Komaeda seems to be too out of it to pick up on the lameness of Hinata’s compliment.

He cradles Komaeda’s warm cheek with the palm of his hand, blushing a bit when Komaeda eagerly nuzzles into his touch. “Are you sure you still want to do this?”

Komaeda’s eyes widen considerably when he processes what Hinata just said, and his legs lock around Hinata’s hips at a speed Hinata didn’t know he was physically capable of. “Yes.” The fog seems to have dissipated from his eyes, green-grey's which are now locked onto Hinata’s face with scorching intensity. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Hinata mumbles, getting back to work along the column of Komaeda’s pale throat.

He’s suddenly tumbling to the side when Komaeda shoots upright, practically vibrating with excitement over something . “I know what I want to do to you,” Komaeda says, suddenly eyeing Hinata with a scary amount of determination. He’s seen this expression on Komaeda’s face before, and it’s usually followed by something shockingly macabre or self-sacrificing. Instead, Hinata’s woefully unprepared for when the words leave Komaeda’s lips; “Can I put my fingers in you?”

“What,” Hinata says.

“My fingers,” Komaeda says mildly.

“Yeah,” Hinata looks at him stupidly. “I got that part.”

“ In you. Like how you do to me?” He offers helpfully.

Yes, Hinata is achingly familiar with how he does it to Komaeda. In fact, that’s actually what he had on the agenda for the evening, and then some. But he’s never particularly thought about having fingers in his ass , not when there were easily many other things he would prefer to be doing with Komaeda. And Komaeda always seems perfectly content to be the receptacle for fingers, not… The other way around.

In his teenage years, maybe he tried it by himself, just once, just to see. It was uncomfortable and Hinata swore it off, claiming that whoever must enjoy such a thing is a perverted masochist.

And Komaeda is perverted, and arguably a masochist, but he’s been cultured now to understand that there’s a method to making these things feel actually enjoyable. He had tried it again once they woke up again on the island, once he and Komaeda were like creaking dams about to break, and found it less painful than his recollections of his earlier attempt, but still. Not better than Komaeda’s mouth around his dick, or Komaeda riding him into the mattress. Not by a longshot. 

Komaeda had asked once before, with Komaeda goading Hinata for being afraid of a little fingering , the Ultimate Hope versus just a “single finger” , but Hinata was so flustered at the time he shut it down with an aggravated twitch of his brow. Now, though...

Komaeda opens his mouth with a look of hesitancy and guilt sprawling across his face. “I’m just joking, Hinata-kun-”

“Alright.”

Komaeda blinks. “Really?”

Maybe it’s the wine making him feel adventurous, or his burning hardness that’s getting increasingly frustrated with the lack of action, or the fact that it’s getting more difficult by the day to say no to Komaeda (which honestly could be dangerous), or the fact that he is a little curious about it all. Regardless, he’s done and said it now, and Komaeda looks absolutely darling staring at him with a surprised expression, naked body nearly glowing in the moonlight.

“Yeah.” He flops back down with a whump sound on the bed, trying to look as unruffled as possible and probably failing. “But you need to, y-y’know, suck my dick too. Or something.”

Komaeda still hasn’t moved, seemingly frozen in place, uncomprehending.

“Why are you so shocked?” Hinata huffed, averting his gaze from Komaeda’s wide eyes. “You’re the one who asked. Hurry up,” he says, lifting his hips and drawing attention to his neglected dick.

Komaeda blinks again, and then slinks over Hinata’s body like a cat, reaching underneath the pillows to grab their half-empty bottle of lube, before settling between his tanned legs. 

“Just don’t get any funny ideas,” Hinata adds, shifting a bit in the sheets. “I’m still planning on having you underneath me after all this.”

Komaeda’s previous hesitation seems to have melted away now, and has instead reformed as a small, knowing smile. “Of course, Hinata-kun,” he says, putting the bottle of lube aside and shuffling downwards. “I wouldn’t dare.”

He unceremoniously then lets his lips slide around Hinata’s dick, taking the tip a little into his mouth. Finally , and it’s so ridiculously good, feeling the wet warmth surround him, Komaeda’s hands braced against his thighs for leverage. Some nights Komaeda takes him down to the hilt without further ado, but tonight he seems to be in favor of running sloppy licks around the shaft, letting his lips catch against Hinata’s burning skin.

The sensations pull out a contented sigh from Hinata, and he indulges himself in brushing Komaeda’s hair away from his forehead, holding it in a tight grip behind his head. He sees Komaeda’s eyes crinkle and he feels him smile around his dick, before he pulls back with a pop and lets Hinata fall out of his mouth.

Before Hinata can yank him back down, he feels Komaeda’s real hand creep lower down his thigh. The metal one comes to hold Hinata’s dick in a loose grip, and he hisses with the feeling of cold air and cool metal touching his hot skin. “I’m excited to show you this, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda says, palming the toned inside of his thighs.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, resisting the urge to wriggle under Komaeda’s touch. “Get on with it.”

“Wouldn’t you rather me take it slow?” Komaeda offers, looking impishly up at him as he scoots even lower, chest against the mattress. “I want to be careful with you, Hinata-kun,” he continues, crossing and uncrossing his legs in the air behind him. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Fine, whatever,” Hinata says, trying to not think about the reality of the situation. He’d much rather be focused on the feeling of Komaeda’s mouth on him again, or even the unyielding grip of his metal fingers absent-mindedly pulling up and down on his shaft, but Komaeda keeps eyeing him like the cat who got the cream. Hinata’s leg jiggles against his will with a bit of nervous energy, so he urges Komaeda on again by tugging on his hair.

Komaeda gives his dick another long, purposeful stroke, before pulling off of him and moving to open the lube. Hinata hears the cap pop open, and suddenly his bravado is draining from his chest. Maybe he’s starting to sober up, but he’s feeling naked in a way that he hasn’t felt during sex before, now that he’s spread open with parted thighs in front of Komaeda. Komaeda, with his sly smile, and dangerous persuasive ability, who’s currently lubing up his fingers.

Komaeda uses his dry hand, the metal one, to attempt to inch Hinata’s legs a bit further apart, but Hinata’s body traitorously jumps under Komaeda’s touch.

“Are you alright?”

Hinata thought that maybe Komaeda would look startled, or even guilty for letting himself get carried away with this request and pulling Hinata so deep in it with him, but instead he still has that smug expression on his face, the bastard.

“Fine,” is all he can say, throwing the hand that’s not entangled in Komaeda’s hair across his own face.

“I promise you it’ll be alright.” Komaeda says, giving a small squeeze against Hinata’s leg.

Hinata peeks at Komaeda through the gaps of his fingers. “Yeah, I know,” and he does know that Komaeda would be careful with him, that Komaeda would never forgive himself if he accidentally hurt or upset Hinata, but it’s the principle of it all. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can!” Komaeda quips, arranging himself in a position that mirrors the way Hinata usually lays when he’s about to start opening the other up. “Just relax, Hinata-kun,” he says, a bit softer now. “All I want is to make you feel good.”

“Yeah,” Hinata acquiesces, trying to force his body to let go of the tension currently gripping him. It gets significantly easier, though, when Komaeda goes back to mouthing at his dick, letting the familiar and welcoming sensations of Komaeda going down on him wash over his mind again. “Yeah.” 

That abruptly changes, of course, when he feels Komaeda’s wet fingers brush over his balls, trail past his perineum, and stops right up against the cleft of his ass. The noise his throat lets out takes them both by surprise.

He tries to assure himself fruitlessly that Hinata Hajime doesn’t squeak like a rubber ducky , but apparently he in fact does , such as when his partner has his gorgeously long fingers pressed up against his ass. Pathetic.

“Is it in?” He grits out, freezing in place.

He looks down just in time to see Komaeda pull off from his dick and look at him blankly. “No, Hinata-kun, it’s not in yet.”

“Oh, okay, cool. Gotcha.”

“Trust me,” Komaeda says, planting a kiss to the side of his shaft. “Let me do this for you. It helps if you relax.”

“I know,” Hinata says, dragging a frustrated hand down his own face. “I tell you that all the time.”

“Yes,” Komaeda smiles, still nuzzling against Hinata’s length. “And it feels really good.”

Good enough to drool, scream, and cry over, if Komaeda’s typical reactions are an accurate indication.

Hinata sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t want to do it, he does, but it’s so different . But maybe if he tries this, and feels it from the opposite perspective, his own technique will get even better. This is empirical, data-driven, scientific research.

“Yeah,” he agrees, relaxing under Komaeda’s touch.

“Focus on me,” is all Komaeda leaves him with before sucking Hinata into his mouth again. But they keep eye contact as he starts bobbing his head up and down, his expression unfaltering except for the way his brows start to pull together when he takes Hinata deeper.

Hinata just barely stops himself from jolting when he feels Komaeda press the tip of his finger inside, pushing against the initial resistance of his opening. He tries his best to compose himself, tightening his grip in Komaeda’s hair and forcing his head down further.

“ Mm-mmm? ” Komaeda peers up at Hitana with a questioning gaze, probably attempting to ask if he’s okay, but the vibrations from his mouth make Hinata tilt his head back.

“Just keep going.” He can do this. Honestly, if he focuses on the scorching heat of Komaeda’s mouth, the slick noises, the soft choking sound he makes when Hinata presses his head down further, the way Komaeda sighs afterwards with a wisp of elation at the rough treatment-

Hinata’s breath hitches when Komaeda suddenly extends all the way in.

“Aah?” He gasps, feeling the somewhat strange sensation of something foreign pressing around inside of him. It doesn’t necessarily hurt, but it’s jarring enough to make his breath snag. Komaeda’s still moving, his mouth drooling over his dick, but his finger is moving in a manner that rings familiarity in Hinata’s mind. He knows this motion, from warm nights of playing trial-and-error with Komaeda until he learned how to really make him feel good. The study thrusts of his fingers in Komaeda always gets him panting, but it’s when he delicately curls his fingers upwards - that’s what gets Komaeda begging, crying, scratching up Hinata’s back until he takes mercy on him, finally gives him release in the form the hard grind of his curling fingers or losing all semblance of patience and pressing into Komaeda with his dick.

But now, it’s different. Like everything with Komaeda, the boy he awoke to on the beach finds a way to slip through the cracks of his defenses and see his vulnerabilities. In a world where everything reads as tediousness, and there’s little to alleviate the constant tendrils of boredom ensnaring his brain, Komaeda touches him and sends him into a tailspin. Hinata’s struck with a feeling of sentimentality that’s almost as overwhelming as Komaeda’s ministrations, pressing heavy against his gut. There’s nothing like this. There’s nobody else in the entire world he would do this with.

The feeling inside him registering as awkward pressure suddenly morphs into something indescribably good . The heat inside him flares, pooling stronger between his legs, sending radiating pleasure through the rest of his body. He barely registers the whine that erupts as his own voice.

“Komaeda, fuck…”

“ Mmmm. ” He doesn’t need to open his eyes, he can already read Komaeda’s glee and satisfaction in the air at bringing Hinata to pieces like this. Komaeda then pulls off of him with a gasp. “Does it feel good, Hinata-kun?” He says, moving quickly to replace the suction of his lips with his metal fingers. The robotic hand holds Hinata in an even tighter grip, shiny metal against shiny spit-slick skin.

“You already.. Know the answer to that..”

Hinata raises his head to yell at him when he feels Komaeda pause, one finger leaving his body, but Komaeda responds charitably by pressing in two at the same time.

“ Fuck!” Hinata feels his back start to arch under the weight of it all, chest bursting outwards into the air, hips tilting harshly downwards into Komaeda’s welcoming hands. He knows that he’s nearing his end, but getting so close to finishing has never had this kind of vice grip on all of his muscles. “Komaeda-”

Komaeda leans his cheek against the inside of Hinata’s thigh, staring up lovingly at him. “You’re doing so well, Hinata-kun.”

His finish overtakes him like a tidal wave, drowning out all of his thoughts and roaring in his ears. Hinata doesn’t even realize what’s happening until he just-barely registers Komaeda’s whimper of pain from how hard he’s yanking his hair. But Komaeda keeps moving his fingers and his metal hand, giving him constant friction and wringing out another wave of pleasure from him again and again .

The tension starts to fade away, leaving a trail of fatigue settling into his bones. Hinata’s eyelids feel immeasurably heavy as he pants, trying not to grimace at the soft noise of Komaeda pulling out his fingers. He wants to whine when he feels Komaeda pull his comforting body heat off of his legs, but he doesn’t even have the willpower to do that. Komaeda’s stolen all of his energy from his body, like the succubus that he is.

Hinata hears the person in question padding to their bathroom, coming back with a hand towel to clean up the mess. Personally, Hinata’s always been contented with wiping his hand on the sheets ( “It doesn’t matter, they got all gross anyways,” ) which Komaeda vehemently protests against ( “It’s barbaric, Hinata-kun ), so if he wants to get up and deal with clean-up, that’s his prerogative. Not Hinata’s problem right now.

But, still - they haven’t really finished yet, have they? Hinata was too distracted from Komaeda’s mouth, his hands, his fucking hands and fingers to try to return the favor, but that doesn’t mean it’s fair to call it quits here.

“Hey,” Hinata says, and immediately flushes at the crackle in his voice. Is his throat always this sore after sex? “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda says, looking at him with soft eyes that make Hinata feel like he’s melting under the tropical sun. “I’m more than satisfied to have done this with you.”

“Let me-” Hinata starts to protest, because honestly, he thought they were over the days when Komaeda would deny his offers on the account of feeling undeserving. Instead of launching into a spiral of self-deprecation, however, Komaeda pushes his shoulder lightly until Hinata’s laying back against the mattress.

“It’s fine,” Komaeda says, cleaning off the streaks of white across Hinata’s stomach and chest that rings in Hinata’s heart with a bizarre kind of domesticity. When he’s done, he folds the dirty towel, setting it aside, and sits on the edge of the bed. “I mean it,” he says, meeting Hinata’s mis-colored eyes with a meaningful look. His robotic hand grazes across Hinata’s jaw before running through his hairline, silver thumbs brushing against the raised scar on his forehead. “It’s nice to take care of you.”

Hinata lets his fingers rake once again through Komaeda’s wild white curls, pulling him down, and kisses his wine-red lips like they’ve got all the time in the world.