Work Text:
Furihata was going to die a virgin, he was pretty sure. He was 17 years old, in the prime of his life-- well, sort of-- and he was still pretty sure that he was going to die a virgin, because everytime he tried to do anything closer than frenzied makeout sessions and maybe some over-the-clothes groping, something disasterous would happen. At this point, he'd started to resign himself: he'd die a virgin so that he didn't die halfway through intercourse.
"I think I'm cursed," he said to Kuroko, later, from where he had his head resting on the table. Looking up was too much effort when he knew for a fact Kuroko had slept with at least one person, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was more than one. Kuroko was surprising, so he just learned to anticipate things being surprising so he would be less surprised. It didn't always work.
"Did last night not go well?" Kuroko asked, turning his full attention from the menu board somewhere over Furihata's shoulder onto Furihata himself. It always felt a little like being under a microscope.
"I almost died," Furihata replied. He looked up again, a quiet sense of desperation permeating through his words. "Again."
"Ah," Kuroko responded. He probably would have said more, had Takao not shown up with a tray of fast food and a cheerful kiss for Kuroko. Furihata put his head back down.
"How did you almost die this time?" Takao's cheerful tone was entirely at-odds with the subject matter, Furihata thought. He could have some gravity for the situation. But, then, he was probably getting laid on the regular, so there wasn't anything for Takao to be upset about. He wasn't the one who was cursed to never sleep with his boyfriend.
"A bicycler almost rode over me on the way to the train station," Furihata said, "so I let him know that I wouldn't be able to go."
"It only almost hit you! You should have gone anyway," Takao replied, making absolutely zero effort to hide the laughter from his head. "Getting run over by a bicycler is a lot less perilous than that time you almost drowned."
"Don't remind me of that." Furihata still wasn't sure he'd be able to look at onsen the same way again for awhile. He was pretty sure he had a scar from hitting his head on the rocks so hard, too.
"You should go this weekend," Kuroko said, his attention largely on the vanilla shake in front of him. He glanced at Furihata only briefly before redirecting his attention back to the shake.
"I'm going to, I just... feel like maybe I should have a good luck charm, or a purification ritual, or -- or anything, really, to keep me from dying," Furihata said.
"At least if you die, it's just you," Takao offered, as though that was meant to be reassuring. It definitely wasn't.
A thought hit Furihata like the bicycler hadn't, and he recoiled from the table. "What if it isn't just me? What if it kills both of us? What if we both die before we ever even--"
"Don't worry," Kuroko said, picking up one of Takao's fries. "Akashi-kun has already had sex."
--
"...and that's why I decided to try and come this weekend," Furihata explained, holding onto his overnight bag loosely in one hand and offering Akashi a small smile. Akashi's expression was a mixture of mild pleasure, brief confusion, and slight exasperation. Furihata wasn't sure he could blame him.
"You came all the way to Kyoto," Akashi said, his voice polite, if amused, "just because you were afraid you would die a virgin?"
"Not," Furihata said, "exactly."
"Let me rephrase. You came all the way to Kyoto, to see me, because you were afraid you might die a virgin when I wasn't," Akashi corrected himself, and even if he was back to being more polite, these days, even if he was back to the Akashi that Kuroko knew and who intimidated Furihata far less, Furihata could still feel the emperor's judgement falling down around him.
"I..." Furihata started, the blush on his cheeks threatening to start a small war if it conquered anymore territory on his face.
"Come inside," Akashi said, before Furihata could say anything else. Furihata stepped inside, glad that he'd at least been to the Akashi household more than once before. He knew the way to Akashi's room and could follow him, and when he saw one of the workers, he recognized them and offered them a brief wave.
Akashi's room was as neat as ever, and Akashi gently shooed one of the family cats off the bed and into the hallway.
"I don't want to risk you finding a sudden life-threatening allergy to cats," Akashi said, and the joke made the tips of Furihata's ears turn red.
"It wouldn't help. There's already cat hair in the bed." Except the sentence felt like a declaration that he was, in fact, intending to see what Akashi's bed was like, and that was too much like admitting that he had in fact ridden several hours away from his home for the express purpose of having sex with his boyfriend, even if it would possibly result in his untimely death.
Furihata was pretty sure, at least, that he was not allergic to cats. His brother had brought one home, once, and they'd found out that his mom was allergic, but Furihata hadn't had any of the itchy eyes runny nose symptoms that had meant they couldn't keep the animal.
Akashi sat down on the edge of the bed like a painting by some long-dead master of the arts, all fine lines and sharp angles and delicate folds of cloth that probably cost as much as Furihata's wardrobe.
"So, if I'm not mistaken," Akashi started to say, crossing his arms, but was prevented from saying anything else by the fact that Furihata had decided to take the initiative and pressed his lips against Akashi's. Doing it was somehow easier than saying he wanted to do it -- and besides, it wasn't as though they hadn't kissed before. It's just that those kisses were usually interrupted by one of the Akashi household workers, or by Furihata's family, or by Kagami barging in after a game and subsequently leaving, red-faced and as embarrassed as he was angry, trying to pretend he hadn't been looking to do the same to Kise.
Furihata pulled back after a few seconds, when nothing bad had happened. There was no one knocking on the door. There were no cats to cause any mischief in the room. He hadn't suddenly gone into anaphylactic shock, there wasn't an earthquake, and there were definitely no bicyclers or large bodies of water.
"Since nothing is happening," Akashi said, his voice careful and quiet, like even he didn't want to break the careful moment, "I think you should consider continuing."
Furihata did. With a considerable amount of eagerness, really, that was readily returned by Akashi. That only made Furihata double his efforts, kissing Akashi with all the pent-up energy he'd been saving for weeks now, trying to drown in Akashi like he hadn't drowned at the onsen. Akashi snaked his hands up to curl around Furihata, and Furihata was in Akashi's lap before he really realized what was happening. He couldn't think of a better place to be.
When they finally pulled apart again, they were both breathing heavily, and Akashi had that careful, calculating look in his eyes that made Furihata feel a little bit like they were on a basketball court and not a bedroom. It made Furihata want to do the same thing he wanted to do when they went up against each other in a match -- throw Akashi off and keep him at bay, prove that Furihata was, if not a threat, at least someone capable enough of being an opponent. He wasn't really sure that opponents were something you had, when you were dating each other and not actually on a basketball court, but when Akashi was looking at him like that, he was willing to make some changes.
"I'm going to take your shirt off," Furihata said, before he could rethink the idea. "Okay?"
Akashi inclined his head to the side, letting his tongue slip out to wetten his lips. "Yes," he agreed. "That sounds fine." He withdrew his hand from Furihata's hair, and Furihata reached down to grasp the hem of Akashi's shirt and drag it up and off over his head. The angle was a little wrong, though, and Furihata wasn't tall enough to correct it enough, so the neck hole got stuck somewhere around Akashi's chin and then Furihata was suddenly sure he was going to wind up strangling Akashi to death, and killing your boyfriend was definitely worse than dying a virgin.
"Ah," Furihata managed, embarrassed, when Akashi finally managed to extricate himself from his shirt.
"Well," Akashi said. "You tried."
Determined to make up for his shirt failure, Furihata leaned back in and pressed kisses to Akashi's forehead; to his mouth, his chin, his neck. Akashi let out a noise that wasn't quite a noise, a short exhalation of breath that Furihata wanted to hear again, and again, and again. Experimentally, he bit lightly at Akashi's neck, and was rewarded for his efforts by the way Akashi's hands tensed on the bed cover, the way his body went carefully taught and then relaxed again and he let his breath out slowly.
"Your neck is really sensitive," Furihata said, trying to adopt a tone as deadpan and obvious as Kuroko would have been able to manage. He didn't manage it very well at all, he didn't think, but they were past the point where things like that mattered.
"I'd noticed," Akashi replied, tone dry and informing Furihata that clearly he knew that, it was his own neck. Furihata just smiled, ducking his head and pressing his forehead into Akashi's neck. He moved to bite again, a little harder, and Akashi made a sharp movement at it.
"--Woah!" Furihata managed, thrown slightly off balance and windmilling as he tried and failed to stay on Akashi's lap. He hit the floor hard enough to shake the bookcases, and Akashi stared down at him, shirtless and wide-eyed, from the edge of the bed.
"...Ah," Akashi managed, finally, surprise giving way to quiet laughter as Furihata proved he was okay by pushing himself upright. "You still aren't dead."
"Yet," Furihata replied, rueful about the entire ordeal, but nowhere near ready enough to give up on the situation yet. "Would it be safer if we... if we moved all the way onto the bed?"
He'd done it. He'd said it, and it really shouldn't be as embarrassing as it was. They were practically adults, everyone else was having sex, sex was nothing to be ashamed of, but damn if Furihata's cheeks weren't burning bright enough to power an entire city.
"That should be fine," Akashi replied, and Furihata felt relieved by the way it seemed like Akashi's mouth was dry, too. Akashi scooted back into the bed, and Furihata was glad that he had a tall, western-style bed, even if it hurt to fall off of. It had a lot more room than anything more traditional would have given him, and the mattress, as Furihata carefully climbed onto it, gave just enough under his weight to be comfortable. He sat carefully, entirely too aware of the fact that he was straddling Akashi to relax. His pants were a lot more tighter than he remembered them being, and he stared down at the expanse of Akashi's chest before taking the plunge and removing his own shirt. It went a lot more smoothly than removing Akashi's had gone, and he dropped it next to Akashi's.
Every breath Furihata took made his chest heave as though he'd just been involved in a tournament game with multiple rounds of overtime. If he was breathing that hard now, he hardly wanted to think about what it'd be like once they were really having sex.
So he decided not to. Instead, he kissed Akashi again, as deep as he could manage. Akashi kissed back just as hard, just as eager, and if Furihata had any doubts about whether or not his boyfriend actually liked him (his unreal boyfriend that he was still pretty sure must be half-hallucination, for someone as high up as Akashi to be dating Furihata), they were set aside with the way Akashi's body surged up to meet Furihata's. Akashi wrapped his arms around Furihata until their chests were flush with each other.
Feeling emboldened by the contact, Furihata let his hands roam. It was awkward to balance, half-bent over and making sure he didn't move too far and wind up with an elbow straight in Akashi's rib cage, but it was worth it, to be able to slide his hands down Akashi's sides. He brushed his fingertips across Akashi's nipples and watched the way it made Akashi shiver; dragged his nails across Akashi's hips and tried to commit to memory the exact feeling when Akashi bucked his hips up in response.
"Furihata," Akashi said, quietly, except it was less of something he said and more of something he breathed, the words falling out of his mouth with a grace that Furihata thought proved Akashi wasn't quite human. And then: "Kouki", and with that quiet correction of his name from Akashi's lips, Furihata felt something in his stomach grow hot and tight.
"Sei -- Seijuurou," Furihata responded, and it didn't sound half as ethereal when he said it, when he caught in the middle like that, but it was still something. Something worthwhile, Furihata thought, because when he slide a hand over the bulge in Akashi's pants, Akashi's eyelids fluttered and his body quaked with the effort of staying still.
"Can I take these off, too?" Furihata asked, sliding his fingers under the waistband of Akashi's pants.
"Yes," Akashi said, with nothing else attached to the word, and Furihata thought that he must be a little far gone if he didn't make a quip about why Furihata would even need to ask.
Furihata fumbled with the buttons for a second. He was careful as he unzipped them-- that had been another mistake that had convinced him he was going to die a virgin, that time when Furihata was home alone with Akashi and he learned the dangers of unzipping your pants too fast when you had an erection-- but Akashi moved his hips with Furihata's movements, and they managed to get the pants mostly off with a minimum of disaster. There was an amused smile on Akashi's lips, but Furihata could handle that. He was learning that the correct response was to just kiss it straight off of Akashi's lips, and that's exactly what he did, Akashi's pants still wrapped around his ankles.
Kicking his pants the rest of the way off, Akashi attacked Furihata's with a degree of dexterity that, frankly, made Furihata a little jealous. He might have been more jealous if it hadn't been used on him, because the way Akashi made sure nothing went wrong involved wrapping his hand straight around Furihata's cock, and Furihata wasn't really capable of thinking very coherently when his boyfriend's hand was wrapped around his cock.
"Oh," Furihata managed, because vowel sounds were easier than real dialogue. "Oh."
"Mm," Akashi replied, and the amusement was definitely still there in his voice, but Furihata couldn't quite manage to muster up much of a complaint. Instead, he moved his hands, dragging them down the inside of Akashi's thighs and squeezing. It made Akashi buck up, and their cocks touched for a second, and Furihata let out a moan that he had to quickly muffle into Akashi's shoulder. There were still people home; there were workers in the Akashi household and they needed to be quiet if they were going to do this. They were going to do this, they were doing this, and Furihata wasn't dead and everything was going mostly okay, and he desperately didn't want it to end prematurely.
"Kouki," Akashi said, quietly, turning Furihata's chin up so he could make eye contact with him. It was as piercing as ever, even if Akashi's eyes were kinder now. "How far did you want to go?"
"I--" was as far as Furihata got before his rebellious throat froze up and he had to look down, to focus on the red mark on Akashi's neck that Furihata had left earlier. He hoped it'd either fade or that Akashi's shirts would cover it. "I brought --" He leaned off the bed, slightly precariously, dragging his bag over and digging around in it. It was the last thing he wanted to be doing, because leaning off the bed was putting pressure on his cock in a way that was almost pleasurable, but he felt would be a lot better if it was Akashi. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and presented it to Akashi wordlessly.
"Oh," Akashi said, seemingly at a loss for words for a second. When he looked at Furihata again, his eyes looked like they were on fire with how intense they were. He kissed Furihata again, hard and hungry, and Furihata thought he really might die from an overdose of Akashi. Whether or not he'd be a virgin, though... that was still up in the air.
When Akashi finally released him, Furihata shivered slightly. It felt like stepping away from a fire. He reached out, taking the lubricant back and hesitating for a split second. The chances of making a fool of himself were pretty high, but... he wasn't sure he could top everything else that had happened over the course of their relationship, so maybe it was better to go ahead and try.
"I think I know how to," Furihata started, but his voice rose weird on the last syllable and he had to stop and clear his throat. "To, um."
"...prepare?" Akashi suggested, voice benign. It didn't match the intensity in his eyes at all.
"Yeah," Furihata agreed, a little quickly. Akashi leaned back, letting his hands rest gently on Furihata's hips and seemingly prepared to watch.
"Okay," Akashi said.
Furihata swallowed. Hopefully he could do this, hopefully it was half as appealing as it looked in the videos he looked up when absolutely no one else was home, hopefully he didn't make a complete fool of himself and somehow die literally naked, in the middle of sex. He spilled some of the lube onto his fingers, thought that it was probably too much and didn't care. He couldn't get the cap back on with one hand, so he just -- set it to the side and hoped neither of them kneed it accidentally.
The moment of truth came as he reached around, slid a finger in to prepare himself. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, experimenting in the shower, when he'd first realized that maybe he wanted to date a boy, maybe he wanted to sleep with a boy. It wasn't like he didn't know how it'd feel, but he was expecting something different. Something more underwhelming than the way it felt when Akashi's gaze was glued to him, when Akashi's nails were leaving crescent moon marks in the skin of his hip.
Furihata wanted to go as fast as possible. He knew he shouldn't, but he wanted to skip this stage, wanted to go straight to Akashi inside of him and officially be a person that had had sex and be a person that knew how enjoyable it was, because everything that they'd done so far was already mindblowing, Furihata was desperate to know how much better it could possibly be.
It would probably give him a heart attack at 17. He was putting at least 50/50 odds on it.
"Kouki," Akashi said, voice tense and hungry. He looked like he wanted to say something: to hurry him, to help him, but he kept his hands exactly where they were and only closed his eyes for a moment to regain himself. His cock was hard and red and Furihata hesitated, then shifted his position slightly. Leaned further over Akashi and balanced precariously on his knees and one hand and let their cocks rub together.
Akashi let out a noise that almost undid Furihata right there, sounding as desperate as Furihata felt. Akashi took his hand and wrapped it around both of them, grip awkward and slippery and absolutely perfect, and it felt good enough that Furihata almost forgot to move his own hand for a second.
"Seijuurou, I'll-- I'll get distracted if you keep--"
"Then I'll help you," Akashi said, and Furihata couldn't say no to that, not when he was wavering on his own. Akashi was done watching, and that was fine; he was a tidal wave sweeping across Furihata and Furihata was just trying to keep air in his lungs. Akashi reached back and suddenly he was there, too, and Furihata was glad that Akashi was helping hold him up, by then, because it felt like his knees and his elbows and every joint in his body was going to give out.
"I can-- I think I'm ready, I think--"
"Okay," Akashi said, and it was possibly the least eloquent thing that Furihata had ever heard him say, and he didn't care at all because suddenly Akashi was shifting underneath him and Furihata felt him pressing back against him. "Tell me if I need to stop." Furihata knew that he'd never say any such thing, because there was no way it could be bad, not when it already felt so good and there were lines of electricity trailing down every nerve in Furihata's body.
Then Akashi was pressing into him, slow and careful, and Furihata wasn't even sure when he'd put the lube on, where he'd even put it afterwards, and decided that absolutely none of it mattered in light of the way it felt. It hurt just enough to make Furihata gasp, tensing up for a second. Akashi halted, shaking with the amount of effort it took to hold back, until Furihata relaxed again.
"Okay, okay, keep--" Furihata said, half demanding and half begging, hands scrabbling to hold onto any part of Akashi that he could manage. He found his shoulders, wrapped his arms around Akashi's neck and held on as Akashi finally sank the rest of the way in and Furihata wanted to cry with the sheer overwhelming sensation. He hadn't thought it could be half this good, hadn't had any idea and he wanted-- he needed-- there was so much feeling that he could barely keep it straight, and he didn't know if he wanted more or less, he just wanted.
Akashi wasn't in any better shape, and they both started moving together, a jerky, awkward pace that had less rhythm to it than a low-budget rhythm game. Furihata leaned in and bit into Akashi's shoulder to keep himself from moaning when Akashi moved against him, when Akashi seized ahold of Furihata's cock and started to pump it, and Furihata made a gasping, hiccuping noise.
Breathing hard, Akashi was holding onto Furihata, holding him up and holding him steady and Furihata was glad that Akashi was leaning against the wall for steadiness because there was no way Furihata was able to do anything but cling.
It hit like a supernova, too soon and taking forever at the same time. He didn't know how he could have lasted longer, when Akashi seemed so determined to have him come undone, and he did, managing a choked gasp of Akashi's name before he buried his face back into Akashi's shoulder. Akashi didn't last much longer, a few jerking seconds passing by while Furihata had no real grasp of time before Akashi was wrapping his arms around Furihata and sinking back down into the mattress.
After enough time had passed that Furihata could both breathe again and think, he gently pushed himself up off of Akashi's chest.
"You aren’t dead," Akashi said, and his amusement was slightly tired, hands slow as they reached up to run through Furihata’s hair.
"Are you sure?" Furihata asked, because it felt a little like he might be. Everything had gone so right that all the minor problems seemed like little more than bumps in the way, and he thought maybe he’d already died and gotten into heaven and that’s where he still was.
He knew better than to say that, though.
“I’m quite sure. And I’m not dead, either,” Akashi said.
“You wouldn’t have died a virgin, though,” Furihata pointed out.
Akashi glanced at him, blinking slightly. “Yes,” he said, slowly, “I would have.”
Furihata stared at him for a long moment, slowly turning more and more red. “Oh.”
"Well. Do you think it’s safe to risk a bath?" Akashi asked, and Furihata was distinctly aware that he was being made fun of, but he didn’t care, because he wasn’t going to die a virgin, and it had been even better than he was expecting.
"I think we can risk it," Furihata said, sounding a little more sheepish than he meant, but it felt a little silly now, when the last bit of orgasm was still tingling in his limbs. Getting out of bed was a struggle, but Akashi had his own attached bathroom, and the hot water felt good enough on Furihata’s tired body that he decided to risk drowning and go in for a second round.
He did not die then, either.
--
"Nice hickey," Takao said. Furihata, to his credit, did nothing more than take an extra large bite of his hamburger in an attempt to avoid answering right away.
"Takao-kun, you shouldn't tease him," Kuroko said, words reprimanding him even if his voice wasn't.
Takao just laughed, and Furihata quietly reflected on why anyone was friends with such a rude guy. Mostly because you couldn't just not be friends with Takao; once he had decided on you, you were absolutely doomed. He was a little like Akashi, in that regard.
"If you think mine is nice," Furihata finally said, trying to keep a challenging tone and not quite managing it, "you should see the one I left on him."
"You know, you were worried about dying before this whole time," Takao said. "But I think you should be more worried now. His dad is gonna kill you."
"It was worth it."
Takao just laughed harder, while Kuroko looked quietly exasperated with the both of them.