Work Text:
“Okay, I’m done.”
The first year girl steps back to have a last look at her latest work. She spent half an hour to re-adjust the costume on their main actor for the latest play.
“What do you think, Mikoshiba-san?”
That’s right. It’s not Kashima who suffered through poking pins and the repeated change of clothing, but Mikoto, who graciously stepped in for her since she came down with a high fever yesterday.
(He really didn’t want to go, but his friends buttered him up. Sometimes he just can’t say no when they ask him to stand in for Kashima while complimenting his art skills in the same breath.)
Mikorin checks himself out in the long vanity mirror next to him. The costume is mostly white; fitting for a prince. The jacket has golden ornaments and some twisted threads across the breast lapels that glow in the lamp light.
“It looks good? I guess?” Mikoto says, unsure what answer would satisfy her. He would’ve laid it on thick as he usually does with his female classmates, but he tried it when she was taking his measurements and she answered with ‘accidental’ poking of needles. He knows where to fight his battles and when it’s the right time to retreat. She’s scary.
The first year seems happy with her work. “You know, I’m glad you could step in... I got the numbers on Kashima-senpai’s statue, and you fit them to a T. Let’s get the President to have a last look for approval and you’re free to go.”
Whew, so his anxiety of having to actually stand in for Kashima and be on stage where everyone was watching will not become true. What a relief.
Mikoto leaves the dressing room to go backstage, where Hori-senpai is concentrating and checking all the costumes on a rack. With a keen eye, he flips through the pieces. Mikoto doesn’t understand what he’s looking for. Maybe holes or something?
“Uhm, Hori-senpai?”
“Yeah, what do you...” the president of the theatre club trails off as he turns around and stops in his tracks.
And doesn’t say anything.
.....
Why isn’t he saying anything?!
To cover the awkward silence, Mikoto is trying to come up with something, scratching the back of his head. Hori-senpai is staring and it makes him uncomfortable. His cheeks feel warm. “Yeah, so, I was told you’d get the last say in this costume, and since Kashima isn’t available, I... stepped in.”
“...Right.” Hori-senpai’s eyes wander downward, taking in every inch with a critical eye. It’s unnerving for Mikoto. Almost as bad as standing on stage. What if he’s not good enough? What if he’s not passing the unspoken test?!
“...You’re the stand-in.” It feels like the president’s talking is more like an afterthought. Mikoto knows that he has to stand still, but his nervousness makes him fidget a bit. Okay, a lot.
“You’re Mamiko...to, right?”
Who is Mamikoto? He shakes his head. “Mikoto Mikoshiba.”
“Ah, right. Sorry, Mikoto.” The president nods. “Please turn around, I’ve got to see everything.”
Doing as instructed, Mikoto turns slowly on his heel, trying to think about something else than being scrutinized under an assessing gaze.
“Hm-hm. Yes. Good,” his senpai nods. “Kiriko did an amazing job. The lapels are well done on this side...” He touches the lapels without hesitation or respect for boundaries, and this is a bit too close for Mikoto, but he is standing still as Hori-senpai inspects the work on the seams.
“Can you move around a bit? Wide motions, to see if anything rips?”
“S-sure!” It feels awkward when he stretches his arms over his head like he’s doing warmups in P.E., but his senpai’s look seems to be approving. He tries some fighting poses – since Kashima will probably fake-duel in this outfit.
“Looking good,” Hori-senpai murmurs to himself, a hand on his chin. “Handsome, like a prince.”
A prince, right! This costume must endure all the typical poses of a prince. Time to give it a go; Mikoto puts a hand over his heart, bows down and takes Senpai’s hand in his–
Someone calls the president from afar.
Their moment, no, time itself freezes, until–
Suddenly, his hand is being taken in a strong grip. “Wh- what?! Senpai?!” Mikoto says, as calm as he can muster (and definitely doesn’t squeak). He can’t help it; Panic Mode with capital letters is setting in, because when he gets pulled along, it feels like a Quick Time Event he had failed.
A sharp tug, and they vanish behind the rows of costumes next to them.
“Shh! Don’t move!” Hori-senpai whispers angrily, and damn it, right next to his ear.
Over his accelerating heartbeat, Mikorin’s mind is trying to keep up with the situation he’s in, squeezed in the costume rack between different unused fabric to hide from the view of the others. It’s stuffy, especially with Hori-senpai so up close – too close. The line of personal space is crossed. Awkward.
“O-okay,” Mikorin stammers, and he doesn’t really get what’s going on. Why did Hori-senpai pull him behind and into the costume rack? All he did was standing in for a fitting, because Kashima was sick at home and his statue came almost as close to hers. This was not in the job description! “What happened? Didn’t someone call for you?”
The light is dim behind the stage, the other theatre folks out there painting backgrounds and testing out costumes for the action scenes. Hori-senpai’s face is turned away, but the blush on his cheeks prominent.
Wait, he’s blushing?!
Mikorin feels his face getting warm, too.
“I can’t go outside,” Hori-senpai murmurs, almost inaudible, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.
“W-why?”
Silence. Uncomfortable, stifling silence.
“Oh, c’mon!” Mikorin squeaks as the other is still evading his questioning eyes. This is getting more awkward by the minute. “Spit it out or I’m gonna leave!”
Another evading look. Mikoto turns around to find a way back through the row of costume.
That gets a reaction. “No, wait, don’t leave–“
Their movement is uncoordinated and Hori-senpai’s pull on Mikorin’s sleeve a bit too forceful and Mikorin tries to hold onto something to break the fall–
They land uncomfortably on the wooden floor, an unused dress and a blouse taken down with them, and man, Mikorin’s knee hurts from the fall. Someone far away asks what that sound was. Groaning, he notices that some buttons on his white prince uniform popped. Damn, will he get scolded? Mikorin looks down to Hori-senpai, and–
Oh.
His senpai is looking up from underneath him and wait. Their predicament halts Mikorin’s thoughts like an emergency break on a train. Situations like these – being pulled down in between the legs of another person, hovering over them and having them at their mercy – only happen in ero games and anime, Mikorin knows that.
It instantly goes to Mikorin’s head.
“Well, well,” he tuts, the smouldering look sliding onto his face easily. “What do we have here?”
He leans forward onto his left hand, crowding into Hori-senpai’s personal space even more. “Did you do this on purpose just to get my attention? Don’t worry, I–“ He stops as his knee pushes into Hori-senpai’s blue pants, and Mikorin’s cool demeanour falls like slippery soap. “Are you hard from this?!” he hisses incredulously.
“That’s why you can’t leave!” Hori-senpai bites back, collecting himself faster than expected.
Holy anime heaven, this isn’t happening. “But– But why?!”
Hori-senpai clicks his tongue and frowns. He seems angry at himself, but the faint blush is still dusting his cheeks. “Maybe it’s the costume? Maybe it’s your ridiculously slim legs in those tight white dress pants? Or because your face is way above average? I don’t know, okay?!”
Taken aback by his honesty and praise, Mikorin reels for a moment. His senpai thought he was handsome? Especially in this outfit? And got hard because of him?
“Oh my god, don’t make that face,” Hori-senpai groans, “This is way worse than the moment you just went all confident on me...”
“W-worse? How?” Mikoto breathes, because his mouth is suddenly very dry.
“Do you...” but he trails off. Hori-senpai gives him a long, calculating look. He’s seen him doing that at times, and it unnerves Mikorin as it is directed at him. It seems like he understood something that went over his own head.
“You prince-types are useless,” he says like he came to a conclusion for himself and grabs Mikorin by his lapels, pulling him face to face. The tips of their noses are touching. His eyes are piercing right into Mikorin’s soul in the dimmed light.
“All right, I’m only going to say this once.” Hori-senpai moves his hips, and okay, his erection is still very prominent against Mikorin’s thigh, thank you for the reminder. “You get two choices here.”
The air between them is hot and thick.
“One: You compose yourself to look presentable, give back the costume, walk out of here and never talk about this ever again if you want to stay alive and graduate from this school.”
The murderous intent in Hori-senpai’s eyes and rumbling voice is crystal clear. Mikorin gulps.
“Or two: We will do something about my situation, as discreetly as possible.” He leans in further and his next words are directly in Mikoto’s ear. “And never utter a word about this to anyone. Then, you’ll also get your share in this. How does that sound?”
His one-track, ero-trained mind latches onto the idea like a moth to the flame and fills Mikorin’s mind with four scenarios at once. (Familiar scenarios from dating sims he played until morning. His mind replaces the heroine’s face with Hori-senpai’s. Treacherous brain.)
“I– uh...” And somehow it’s hard to give an answer, because holy hot damn, did Senpai really say this without batting an eyelid? Mikorin isn’t sure if he slid into his actor skills just like that or if he is just that straight-forward and suave. Impressive. And dangerous.
Mikorin’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears, and he tries to focus, because there must be a rational answer to this, but he’s never been the best at pop-quizzes and spontaneous answers.
“God, stop biting your lower lip, you’re killing me,” Hori-senpai groans, before putting his mouth right there, and it takes Mikoto a second to understand he’s being kissed, and there is a hint of teeth on his lip.
Their kiss is promptly forgotten when Hori-senpai uses his leverage to roll Mikorin over and pushes him into the floor without any effort. (Well, he’s not resisting much, but being manhandled by a shorter person like this... Is doing something for him. Mikorin has to file this weird feeling away for later.)
Hori-senpai’s dark blue tie falls out of its pocket due to him leaning (and looming) over Mikorin. It distracts from the obvious tent in his pants for a short moment. The grip on his lapels is gone, and Mikorin kind of misses it, misses the pretence of being forced to do this. Whatever this is.
“Your answer, Mikoshiba?”
It’s the precipice of something world-changing, something he should rationally think about. And not decide with his dick. But he is only a man, after all, with a raging hormones and the opportunity of a lifetime. His lip tingles.
“I’m in,” Mikorin rasps.
A dark, satisfied grin is his reward for picking the right answer. “We have to be quick about this,” his Senpai says, looking over towards the stage through the shield of costumes. Mikorin wants to follow his gaze, but suddenly, Hori-senpai’s eyes are on him again, and damn, that self-assured smirk stirs something within him.
And when a muscular thigh presses against him, against his own boner, Mikorin realizes that he’s got hot and bothered from this whole situation. How and when did this happen?
Of course, it doesn’t escape Hori-senpai, damn it. He looks down at the deformed pants. “That was... fast.”
“It’s, uh, it’s not what you think it is,” might not be the best thing so say to save his dignity, but it’s what stumbles out of Mikorin’s mouth. It’s complete bullshit and they both know it.
“Oh, it isn’t?” Senpai’s right hand next to Mikorin’s head trails down to the matter at hand, fingers just lightly touching the fabric trapping his dick. The touch is electric, causing Mikorin to twitch.
“Okay, okay,” Mikoto hisses, the tips of his ears flaming red. “Don’t look at me like that and get on with it!”
“Bossy,” Hori-senpai smirks and tugs at the knot of his tie to loosen it. “We’ll see how fast this’ll go.”
There’s no time to give a clever retort though; not when Hori-senpai creates a delicious friction that makes him crave more. Not when Hori-senpai’s hands open the rest of his jacket’s buttons swiftly, just so he can lean down and lick Mikorin’s collarbone to make him shiver all over.
“Hngh...” A small gasp escapes Mikorin when he feels teeth nipping on his soft skin between neck and shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, but Hori-senpai doesn’t let up, and Mikorin just realizes how sensitive this spot is. The hot, wet tongue licking over it afterwards elicits a shudder from deep within, and his hands instinctively fly into Hori-senpai’s hair to hold onto something and urge him to... to what?
“Bite me,” Mikorin says under his breath, barely audible, but Hori-senpai doesn’t hesitate and sinks his teeth into muscle, eliciting a soft curse from his throat. Okay, yes, this was a brilliant idea, he seems to be very into this (which he didn’t know as of today), Mikorin’s mind approves.
Slender fingers which usually draw flowers in shoujo manga slide through short, soft hair down to Hori-senpai’s neck. It’s not intuitive, since this isn’t something he’s done before, but Mikorin knows what he likes on himself – or would like, because Mikorin’s imagination has run a lot of scenarios – and that’s the only reference he has to maneuver this new unlocked scenario of his life.
Their bodies are trying to touch everywhere at once, and they quickly get the hang of a grinding motion, each of them chasing a pleasurable friction, the outer world temporarily forgotten.
Hori-senpai curses lightly to himself as he sneaks one hand under Mikorin’s knee to push it up for better access. A tearing sound makes him falter for a second. “Damn. Guess we need to fix these pants later on. Don’t want to ruin this costume any further...”
Thinking about the costume in a heated make-out like this is very on par with Hori-senpai’s personality, Mikorin thinks, and it’s kind of funny. “Let me get this,” he says, opening the fly of the borrowed pants, pushing them down a little. With his jacket riding high on this waist, Mikorin realizes how revealing this must look; the flat plane of his stomach, down to the hip bones and his grey, tented boxers on display. (He has definitely not the typical anime girl body type, so what about him is attractive to his senpai?)
No time for embarrassment, though. Senpai has already followed his example, pushing his own pants down to his knees. Seeing Hori’s hard-on only covered by dark underwear up close is weird (and equally exciting).
“Don’t you dare soil the fabric of these pants,” warns Hori-senpai, pushing his hips down, and it’s so much warmer than before with less barriers between them.
The angle is perfect, the friction is delicious. Both of them try to keep their breathing and sighs and moans quiet, but it’s tough. Belatedly, Mikorin notices how his left leg is hooked over Hori-senpai’s shoulder, and Senpai’s free hand wanders down to the revealed skin of his thigh, light pressure on his sensitive skin. Goosebumps follow the path of his hand, and Mikorin’s attention is divided between the teasing hand and the great friction on his cock.
All of it just fuels the screaming need and want inside him, and it’s so much better than any kind of ‘alone-time fun’ he’s ever had. Any future wank sessions are ruined already. A big part of him just doesn’t want for it to end, but the tightness in his groin is telling a different story.
“Hn, Hori-senpai, I–“
“You close?”
Mikorin’s face is burning. “Y-yeah,” he breathes.
Apparently, that spurs Hori on even more, and he presses open kisses to the underside of his chin and runs his teeth along his sensitive neck. It feels slightly different than his usual orgasm, and the tipping point catches him off guard when he comes in quick spurts. “Hngh–”
Hori-senpai watches him with hungry intent. “...Beautiful,” he says under his breath.
Coming down from his high and realising that Senpai hasn’t gotten off yet, Mikorin know he has to rectify that immediately. He snags Hori-senpai’s loose tie and pulls him close with a sharp, demanding tug; face to face. “Stop waxing bullshit and get going!” he hisses.
Hori-senpai has the audacity to look sheepish for a second, before unhooking Mikorin’s leg. He draws back and starts mouthing at Mikorin’s inner thigh – startling his underclassman.
Mikorin instinctively flexes his thighs and
Hori-senpai’s breath hitches, accompanied by an audible groan against his skin. Right. It’s an open secret that he has a thing for pretty legs. (Which were usually Kashima’s, but hey, nothing about the last ten minutes was ‘the usual’.)
There is a deliciously hot tongue trailing down the soft skin near his spent dick, and (holy shit, what if Hori-senpai sinks his teeth in there) an intrusive thought later, Mikorin presses both his thighs against Senpai’s head.
It was just meant to spur Hori-senpai on; what Mikorin didn’t expect was Hori’s eyes dilating before scrunching shut, followed by a full-body shiver and a suppressed moan. Of course Senpai still has himself under control like this. It impresses Mikorin more than he might admit.
Seconds are ticking by, and everything seems too warm, too sticky, too much overall as they both breathe through their high. The drying patch on his underwear is making Mikorin fidget, and it startles Hori-senpai into action.
“Okay, we have to move,” Hori-senpai says, already getting dressed. “We have to get you back to the changing room.” His hands are fiddling with Mikorin’s jacket and dress shirt without addressing anything that has happened.
Mikorin fumbles with his pants. “Kiriko will be pissed that I ruined the costume,” he says ruefully. He looks presentable now, and he tries to smooth down his hair.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take it on with her. She’ll understand,” Hori-senpai says, arms crossed. (He has the audacity to look like nothing happened. Just his tie isn’t stuffed into his breast pocket like it’s used to.)
“U-understand?” Mikorin blinks, his hand still in his hair. Is he really talking to her about what happened?! But Hori-senpai is already leaving, making a path through the costume rack, so he has to follow him. “Understand what, exactly? What are you gonna tell her?!”
Before Hori-senpai enters the door that leads them backstage, he turns around, stepping into Mikorin’s personal space like he owns it. Their height difference doesn’t feel like one at all, especially when Hori-senpai’s breath is just so close against his own warm face again.
It’s still dark around them, but his eyes glitter with mischief. “Don’t you worry you pretty little head about it. I’ll make something up; I’m a decent actor, after all.”
Mikorin has a hard time accepting the compliment and processing Hori-senpai’s coolness at the same time. “But I’m not, I might...”
Hori-senpai flicks against Mikorin’s forehead. “That’s why you’re not saying anything, and just give back the costume. Maybe throw in a charming, princely smile to play your part.”
Nodding, Mikorin tries to get his act together. He really has to get rid of the heat in his cheeks.
“And if we can pull this off...” Hori-senpai smiles like it’s a secret just between them. “You’ll be in for a treat.”