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Kiku was getting a bit tired of this. It was already the second time just this week that Alfred called him early in the morning, screaming in his ears about how he'd somehow gotten his hands on another old, eldritch horror movie from the local rental store. From all his years spent on this earth, and all the videos and comics he's seen from his own personal interest and curiosity, Kiku thinks that maybe this was some sort of unexplored fetish that Alfred had. It had to be that, what other explanation would you have for the constant poking and prodding around for movies that could even shake Ivan to his core? And, another thing, if Alfred was so set on discovering this newfound fetish of his, why did he have to involve Kiku in this?!
But, setting the whole kink thing aside – Kiku finds it a little odd to think about his friend's sexual preferences – it's still a mystery to him as to why Alfred continuously rents more horror movies – sometimes not even movies, just random poorly made videos he found on the internet about so-called ‘real paranormal activities caught on camera’ – only to then later call Kiku and go running to him like a damsel in distress. Maybe, on the thought that Alfred simply wanted to spend more time with him, they could've gone to take a walk in the park, go to the nearby mall or something.
Even with all of this grumbling and complaining, Kiku found it a tad sweet. Alfred clung to him so easily, spooked properly to not even look at the TV screen. And Kiku shushed him with a hand on his head akin to a mother with her wide-eyed son, giggling softly and quiet enough for Alfred not to hear.
Now Kiku fiddled with the end of his blanket, knowing that soon they'd be cuddled up next to each other, bundled under the thick duvet like two kids staying up late on a sleepover. This was almost becoming some sort of ritual, and Kiku truly had to wonder if Alfred really did this for the movie or if it was just an excuse to make a bucket full of popcorn that he'd eat all by himself.
“Kiku, you haven't started the movie without me, right?!” Alfred’s nasally voice boomed in the silence of the living room, hurrying himself over to the sofa as if he were late to this get-together. He always asked the same stupid thing, to which Kiku had to answer back with a no, every time.
“Why do we invariably have to do this at my house?” Kiku’s voice was as soft as ever, and Alfred was left to wonder perpetually if this is just how he spoke or if he was getting tired of him. Logically, of course. “Is there something wrong with your place?” Kiku had this fake-concern tone that made Alfred want to punch him square in the face, like a ‘Is your shitty house bothering you the same way it bothered me last time I visited?’ tone.
“No! I just want to visit my friend, is there something wrong with that?” He parroted back at Kiku with an annoying grin that made his brow twitch. There was no answer, only a battle of stares that Kiku was set on winning.
“Whatever. You don't mind anyway, do you? We can start the movie, can't we?” There was this pattern in Alfred's speech that Kiku had grown to notice. He'd ask things without meaning it, or caring to know about the answer, like Can I have a bite of your cake? while having already eaten half of it when Kiku wasn't looking. It was childish in the worst possible way, like most of Alfred's personality, he supposed.
Alfred grabs the controller beside Kiku on the armrest, stretching his body on top of him in a puerile manner. He steals a little glance at Kiku with a smile on his face, and clicks the play button. His hands patter around in the search of a blanket, and he pulls the one on top of Kiku’s legs, throwing it around his body carelessly without leaving any for the boy next to him. And it's quiet for a little while, that nice relaxation you get right as the movie's about to start, the opening credits beaming in your face. It lasts for maybe 10 seconds before Kiku hears what he's grown so used to but still annoys him irreparably. Alfred munches on his popcorn with his eyes fixed to the screen like a little kid who isn't aware of how you should act when watching a movie in theaters.
“Is it good?” Alfred barely spares a glance at him, humming a weird ‘hm?’ in question. “The popcorn. It seems you're enjoying it.” In truth, even if Alfred is having the time of his life eating it, Kiku is sure he'd throw up the second he swallowed down a single popcorn from that plastic bucket. It's glistening under the artificial light of the TV and Kiku knows it's because Alfred poured a shit ton of butter in it, claims it's ‘the way he likes it’ and that he 'can't understand why Kiku won't eat it!’.
“Oh, yeah yeah. But look Kiku, it's starting so pay attention!” He wants to tell Alfred how he's the one who always has to explain scenes from the movie to him afterwards, because either Alfred was too scared to watch or was too focused on something else to do so. But it's like, whatever. Kiku thinks that even if he told Alfred to fuck off and leave his house forever, he'd still want to watch the god-damned movie at his own place, ‘cause that's just how he was. Stubborn as ever.
The premise of the movie is quite simple: a group of friends go to a cabin in the woods to party or whatever dumb teenagers in horror movies do, and get attacked by a werewolf. It's sorta cliche, but it's exactly the kinda thing Alfred would bring and force Kiku to watch.
‘Oh man, this is gonna be lit!’ Kiku lifts an eyebrow at the writer's lame attempt of trying to fit teen lingo into the script. Besides, he never really understood American slang, Alfred spoke gibberish to him sometimes and it was already hell to deal with in real life. So, obviously, this was going to be a great movie.
The group of teenagers pull up to the beaten down cabin, it's made of some old dark wood that looks rotten to the core and damp from the forest air, Kiku wants to scoff. When one of the girls gets inside, opening the door dramatically slowly, it hinges and creaks, the wooden floor groaning like a creepy witch’s laugh. She gulps and looks back at her group of friends, not wanting to go alone.
‘Y’know, someone told me that this forest is filled with werewolves…’ One of her friends creeps up behind her, crawling his hand on her back like a spider and hearing her scream.
Kiku isn't all that interested in the beginning of the movie, not really. Alfred makes some commentary here and there but mostly Kiku is switching his brain on and off, eyelids fluttering with a twinkle of sleep.
“Oh, don't go there…” Alfred pleads in a whisper, and he's already sprung up tight like an archer's bow, eyes wide and glistening. Kiku often pokes fun at him for it, but he really thinks it's kind of fascinating. Alfred's weird “love” for horror movies (if you can even call it that, though Kiku doesn't know what else he'd call it. Fascination? Curiosity? Fetish? Ok, scratch that one out) is almost endearing. Almost. If it wasn't for the fact that Kiku always had to be in the middle of it for some reason. But, Alfred speaks about it and searches it up in his free time with such genuine delight that it's hard for Kiku to be mad for too long. He's just a little weird but… so is Kiku, so is everyone.
There's a strange noise coming from the TV, Kiku peeks up and his eyes widen a little. It was out of nowhere, or he just wasn't paying enough attention – which is kinda hypocritical on his part for judging Alfred earlier, but the werewolf is on top of the woman from before. She's screeching at the top of her lungs, legs kicking and flailing around, the werewolf has her pinned with his big hands and claws on her neck. His nails press on her skin until it breaks, fresh blood oozing out, and with little strength the werewolf marks her with huge, gaping wounds. The squelching sound from her skin being torn sounds too wet and it's so damn graphic Kiku can't help but look away. This was a little much, even for him.
His gaze moves to Alfred beside him, finding it weird he's gone so quiet, but then it's obvious. Alfred is frozen in place with the widest eyes Kiku thinks he's ever seen from him, one motionless hand in the air, as if he's just about to have a heart attack and die in front of Kiku because of a crappy movie about werewolves, of all the cool mythical creatures out there. He squints his eyes and ponders for a moment, that Kiku kind of wants to creep up on Alfred and blow on his ear to scare him, but he gets a little worried when Alfred doesn't move for a few seconds too long.
“Alfred… Alfred, are you alright?” Kiku asks in the quietest voice he can make out, his hand moving slowly towards his friend's arm. But before he can really do anything, Alfred is looking at him with pure terror in his eyes, catching the sleeve of his shirt and gripping it with such strength Kiku thought it'd rip. He makes an ‘oh’ sound, and backs away from surprise.
“Kiku, Kiku please–” With utter vehemence, Alfred hugs his arm close and lets himself be dragged closer to Kiku, with shaking eyes and a too panicked breathing pattern. Kiku's face is scrunching up unsettlingly with what he thinks is worry, and he doesn't know what to do, not with Alfred acting so weird. Alfred has jumped and screamed and ran out of the room before but… he's never looked like this, whatever this is; with a dread so strong he couldn't do anything but cling to Kiku in hopes it'd go away.
“Alfred, you're not a child, stop acting like this,” Kiku feels uncomfortable all of a sudden, looking around the room as Alfred pulls on his arm. He wasn't the type of person to be too rude or direct with his words, but this was just stupid. Out of all the things Alfred could be absolutely terrified of, of all the grotesque things Kiku found himself having to watch because of Alfred, this really seemed to be the tamest.
He's about halfway through pushing Alfred's head away when he not only hears it, but feels something wet on his fingers. In the back of Kiku’s head, without him even knowing what it is, he wants to kick and scream at Alfred about how he's disgusting, because that could very well be either Alfred's tongue licking his palm in an attempt to piss Kiku off, or accumulated sweat from almost pissing his pants at this shitty movie. He realizes, midway through opening his mouth with widened eyes, that it's none of those two options.
Alfred is crying. Genuinely, truly crying. It's one of those moments where you think, maybe you fucked up in some way or another. Kiku thinks, was it because of me? But he realizes he doesn't exactly care, because his friend – his friend, which he shares beds with sometimes when Alfred knocks on his door late at night because he's bored and misses Kiku, which he's been in the same shower as, which he very drunkenly said something about kissing him to his face on a night out – is crying right in front of him and it's Kiku's job to hold him close and shush him until there's nothing left.
The hand that was on his forehead moves to his cheek, cupping it with such delicateness that it trembles under the warmth of Alfred's skin. Kiku says it a lot, he's always comparing Alfred to a kid or saying his actions are brash and impulsive, but in this moment, as Kiku looks down at him with big eyes, he really sees it. It strikes him like a bullet to the chest, an image of little boy Alfred clinging to him in fear of the monsters in the dark. His face is swollen and wet and his lower lip is quivering with the effort of trying to keep quiet.
“Alfred, what's wrong? What is it?” Kiku's voice has a tinge of urgency in it, and his other hand slicks Alfred's hair back so he can take a look. “You're shaking, your skin is so cold–”
“Kiku, please,” He repeats his words from before. The sound of Alfred's voice, so small and shaky like it was a physical thing that could break, slithered down Kiku's spine in an uncomfortable shiver. “I don't– I'm scared, this isn't like the other movies we watched.”
Kiku doesn't know what to do, his brows furrow in distress. His hands press on Alfred's face as an artist would do to a clay sculpture, and instead of just staying there sobbing, Alfred leans on his touch, almost nuzzles his cheek against Kiku's palm. Kiku gasps at that, and he jumps without meaning to.
Alfred looks… he looks beautiful like this. He's whining and sniffling softly, the tears are clinging to his lashes in small pearls, falling when Alfred sucks in a sharp breath. Kiku feels his body go hot and cold all at once; Alfred's cheeks are the same pink-ish hue of when Kiku eats too many strawberries and wets his fingers with the juice, they're soft and they burn under Kiku's touch and he wants to kiss the tears away for him. But he doesn't. Kiku stays still, staring at Alfred with an agape mouth.
“Can I– can you–” His voice breaks into a sob, but Kiku understands. He pulls Alfred close into a warm embrace, hugging his head close to his chest and shushing him gently.
Some time in between the two looking shocked at each other, Kiku paused the movie to not frighten Alfred even more – he was always the one with the controller anyway, since Alfred didn't know how to behave himself when he had it. Now stood a heavy silence that draped over them like a duvet, although it didn't feel uncomfortable, with Alfred's body moving up and down from his frantic breathing. If Kiku wasn't so surprised by the sudden turn of events, he'd probably be calming Alfred down with his words; Alfred had always told Kiku about all the poems from his country and the beauty of them, how they couldn't be conveyed properly with the words they had in the English dictionary. Kiku thought it almost romantic of Alfred, and took in his words with a simple thank you and a bat of lashes against flushed cheeks.
One of Kiku's hands was caressing through Alfred's blond hair, which looked like it shone bright with gold when the lighting hit just right.
“Alfred, you're gonna hurt your back if you stay like that.” With the impressive force Kiku always seemed to use when taking care of his friends, he pulls Alfred over, more to his side now, moving him to his lap. He didn't think about the implications of that, because Kiku didn't care, he wasn't the type of person to worry about that when one of his friends was crying in front of him; Kiku would toss all of his weird feelings aside, all the memories of when he wished he could do this, only under different circumstances.
Alfred curls in on Kiku's chest for a moment, sniffling loudly enough to make Kiku cringe. Kiku thinks that Alfred is about to wipe his nose on his shirt and he does not want that to happen, no matter how caring he is, that option is just not possible. It doesn't happen, thank goodness; Alfred only leans back, and then Kiku is suddenly very, very hyper aware of this position and where Alfred's crotch is.
Kiku is the first one to freeze, to feel like something bizarre is about to happen and that he can most definitely prevent it if he's fast enough. He manages to hide it well enough, by staring directly at Alfred's pelvis with wide eyes, hands practically shaking beside Alfred's thighs. Alfred is still wiping his eyes, slicking his hair back and in the middle of saying something when he looks – really looks at Kiku, with a calm expression.
Alfred rakes his eyes over Kiku's frame, takes notice of how his chest is heaving, and looks down to where he's staring. Huh. Huh?
“Oh, sorry.” He mutters simply, but Alfred's transfixed on it, he doesn't move even though he knows he should. Because, what do you say when you've somehow, completely accidentally, got a hard-on while crying in your friend's arms? ‘Sorry’ seems like the most plausible pick right now. Alfred wants to be embarrassed, to shove at Kiku and look around the room like a crazy person while laughing hysterically. Then they'll both start laughing, and they'll forget that Alfred was crying, and they'll forget this even happened in the first place. But none of that happens, Alfred doesn't move, his eyes are half lidded and lazy and his cheeks are still kind of rosy.
“Alfred, w-what–” Kiku doesn't know what he wants to say. ‘Why are you rock hard on my lap?’ would make sense, though Kiku finds he's unable to so much as acknowledge the situation at hand.
“‘s probably… adrenaline, ‘n stuff.” Alfred's voice is a murmur, words slurring together as if he were drunk. “Y'know, I read that somewhere once.”
Kiku nods uncaringly and his eyes drift away from the view. This fucker! How can Alfred sound so stupidly nonchalant now when he was the one crying like a little baby before?! Over this stupid horror movie, too. He frowns and grimaces, for their roles to change so suddenly…
They had two options, but, inside Alfred's head, it was more like three. One, Alfred could just be a normal person and sit back down to watch the rest of the god-damned movie; Two, he could jack one off in the bathroom of his friend's house like a teenager high off of raging hormones, come back with a sheepish little smile and make everything more awkward than it already is; or Three, Alfred adds quietly inside his head, they could both make this work.
Alfred's never been the type of person to back out of a situation easily, no matter how difficult or gory it may get. His stubbornness had been the subject of many conversations and arguments alike; he understood it wasn't something everyone admired, nor did he want it to be something people looked up to, exactly. It's just the way Alfred's always been, or how he liked to live. His mom tired herself with telling people little Alfred had gotten this type of behavior from the countless comic books he made himself sick from reading, changing the way he spoke or dressed to better match his idols or, as Alfred always called them, his heroes.
With that in mind, Alfred quickly picked the third option, ringing inside his head like the obnoxious animation of a jackpot game. He wanted this, he wanted this.
“Kiku,” Alfred rushes out in a whisper and leans closer, caging the boy with his arms and pressing their bodies closer. Kiku gasps loudly, arms stuttering in place as his brain flashed bright red in front of his eyes with ‘RUN’ written in a big, loud font. Their hips press together, and Kiku suppresses a whine that comes from low in his throat when Alfred's bulge goes against his own.
There's not much else to say, Kiku's words are stuck in his throat and his eyes are shut tight while he pants with something akin to fear. Alfred wonders if he should stop for a moment and ask if Kiku was okay; Kiku had this cute little thing that happened to him, when he was flustered, he would blush all the way down to his chest. Alfred got to see it once, at the beach together, and the memory had made a home inside his brain like burnt film. It was too quick for Alfred, the realization that he wanted to see more of Kiku, to peel his clothing apart and check what was underneath, what did he keep hidden under that quiet demeanor and averted gazes?
“You're hard too,” Alfred points out as if it was something admirable, he has this tiny little smile that in any other situation would almost be endearing, but Kiku can hardly help himself from widening his eyes absurdly wide while he peeks through the gaps of his fingers. He hears a little laugh, and Alfred humps against him again, mouth falling open with disbelief. “Oh…”
Alfred doesn't stop, because he's clueless, he never reads the room. He's selfish and an asshole, and it irritates Kiku so much how he's apparently the only one who can stand Alfred, the only one who easily lets him into his home, who watches these stupid movies with him; and in a last breath of hope, he wishes too, that he could be the only one able to see Alfred like this, so up close with their shared breaths.
“Alfred,” It comes out half broken down, in a high-pitched voice so unlike Kiku. Alfred stops with a dumbfounded look in his face, hearing the weird wobble on Kiku's words, and he thinks this is it, Kiku won't ever let me inside his house again, he'll push me away and shove that beautiful katana he has hidden in his room in my stomach. It surprises Alfred altogether, leaves him with a violent shudder, when Kiku starts pressing his own hips against Alfred too, starting a rocking rhythm.
He moans open-mouthed, and presses the palm of his hand to Kiku’s shoulder. Kiku has one arm draped over his eye, Alfred can see how his lower lip quivers as he lets out tiny cries, body unmoving if not for the movement of his crotch grinding against Alfred's.
“I need to feel you more,” Alfred breathes out all the air from his lungs, vision darkening for a split second as he hurries to shove a hand down his dorky heart print boxers. “That okay?”
Kiku manages to nod and let out a weak ‘yes, yes’. The two are a blur of lust in the middle of Kiku’s living room, hands reaching out with a scared and uncertain twitch before landing on each other's bodies, noses touching as their breaths mingle together. He refuses to look, Kiku keeps his gaze unfocused on the TV behind Alfred as their dicks both hang out in the open now. This is the point of no return.
Kiku lets out a small noise from the back of his throat and pushes up, body completely limp underneath Alfred. He reacts strongly, gasping and thrusting back at Kiku with a weird shyness that's never really there. This isn't what Alfred is like, cheeks bright red, sweat dripping down his brow, and Oh, he's really, truly hard, isn't he? His cock twitches as it slides against Kiku's, the sensitive vein on the underside throbbing alongside his heartbeat.
“You're really wet, already,” Alfred says with that indignant smile of his. He's mocking me, Kiku thinks. “Are you excited, Kiku?”
“No,” He whines out, and lets out a loud cry when Alfred keeps pushing, not giving him a second to breathe. Their dicks aren't really touching like this, just brushing against each other lazily.
“Closer,” Alfred says suddenly, and Kiku blinks sparks out of his eyes blearily, not even realizing he closed them at some point. There are gentle hands sliding on his back and pulling him up like a baby, bodies pressing close in an almost hug. He mewls quietly and hides his face on Alfred's shoulder, biting his lower lip to not let drool drip all over their legs. “Like this, it's better, is it not?” Alfred thinks he can hear Kiku say something, but it dissolves into needy noises.
He can hear it clearly now, wet noises squelching and ringing inside of his ears as Alfred starts to move, both their dicks sandwiched in-between their bodies and sliding easily. Kiku's eyes roll back as he clings to Alfred, a strangled whimper escaping him. He can hardly find it in himself to thrust back, hips twitching reluctantly before he's moving with him, melting under his touch.
“Please, please,” His words slur together, garbled by the disgusting amount of saliva pooling in his mouth. Kiku's tongue itches to peek out, to lick and taste Alfred's skin that touches so close to his, to give in to pure instincts and swallow Alfred whole as they lose themselves like wild animals. Alfred grunts in his ear, and almost tears Kiku's flimsy sleep shirt with the force of his fingers, clenching around the fabric.
Kiku wasn't sure what was going on anymore, he thinks he lost consciousness a few minutes ago when he pulled Alfred to his lap when some weird sort of maternal instinct bloomed inside his chest. Maybe he should've told Alfred to get it together, or to simply tell him to wait as he grabbed him a cup of water. In the end, this was all Alfred's fault anyway; it was his fault for being a crappy friend, for barging into Kiku's house anytime he wanted, for crying at stupid horror movies, for being such a creep, a pervert, for being so ridiculously handsome, the american dream, baby blue eyes blinking down at Kiku as he panted and pressed their hips together harder.
“Oh!” He wants to close his eyes, brimming with fat globs of tear, but they turn wide when he looks down to where they're connected. Their hips thrust into each other wildly, their bellies shiny with the smeared pre-cum and sweat, and Kiku knows he's not going to last. Not when he's finally getting what he wanted, what he fantasized about in nights where he couldn't sleep, sobbing into his hand with pure shame as he let his release squirt on his stomach. No matter how much Kiku tried to hide it or deny it, there was no changing how he indulged himself in his thoughts, alone behind closed doors.
Alfred leans back a little, reaching to cup Kiku's chubby cheek with the palm of his hand. He wants to look into his eyes, do something cheesy that would definitely make this more awkward than it already is, but Kiku's gaze is foggy, eyes rolling with his mouth open. Alfred is a bit worried when Kiku is so deeply imbedded with pleasure he almost looks like he's about to die, saliva running down his lips to his chin.
“Can't–” Kiku stutters out, cheeks becoming shiny with tears. “Alfred, Alfred, gonna cum–”
It's only a split second of blood rushing to his ears before his vision whitens, body trembling violently as semen spurts out from his dick. His nails dig into Alfred's shoulder, and he thinks he can hear him hiss with pain, but it falls into deaf ears when Kiku thinks he's going to faint in his friend's arms from cumming his brain through his cock. This isn't like those pathetic nights tucked inside his room, this isn't like anything, Kiku genuinely thinks he's gonna breathe his last breath for a second. His body tenses up entirely, toes curling on Alfred's butt, and somehow, his hips still move like he wants more, slutty and desperate until he's practically milked dry.
When he comes to, Alfred is still looking down at him, a warm fondness held in his gaze that makes Kiku feel shy for all the different reasons. He tries to push Alfred away, tries to pull him closer, but is ultimately too weak to even try any of those.
“Oh,” Kiku says suddenly, eyes opening tiredly. “Did you–” He looks down.
Alfred looks with him for a second, and he blinks before he's laughing at Kiku.
“Yes, don't worry,” He smiles sheepishly, cheeks pink and a quirky grin on his lips. It's a good expression on him, Kiku thinks.
“Okay,” Kiku says simply, and puts one hand on his chest, feeling more so than hearing his shaky breaths and abnormally strong heartbeat.
There's a stretch of silence in the living room, the two men catching their breaths, stealing glances and quickly looking away with a slight furrow – Kiku, of course; Alfred would just laugh at him and stare directly.
“Ah, we should shower, maybe?” Alfred suggests in a way too normal voice, or the type of tone you'd use carefully around someone who's mad at you.
Kiku tries to look angry as he glares at Alfred, and blushes frustratedly when he just snickers at him. “Just sleep here tonight.”